Vigil of the Fates
by PeterEliot
Summary: (SquallRinoa) The continuing quasi-canonical retelling of FFVIII. Ch. 25: "I'm just... so conflicted about this! It'll be either the biggest first operation ever for any rookies--or the biggest flop in the annals of SeeD."
1. Morning

**VIGIL OF THE FATES**

**By PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**Before You Begin**

The story you are about to read is essentially the same as the game's own.  But I have modified the game script here and there to flesh it out.  The first ten chapters or so in particular mirror the script closely.  After that my focus shifts somewhat—to tell the story of FFVIII more or less in my own words, without going so far as rewriting the plot, of course.  This is the same story you found in the game, only told my way.  That may not be apparent at first, but it soon will be.  If you give it a try I believe you will like it.

The story is planned over ninety chapters.  Your comments and encouragement will see me through them.  Let me hear from you.  I hope you enjoy the story.  

**1.  MORNING**

With the return of consciousness, the world regains clarity in the streaks of bright morning light pushing through the open window, the chirping sound of birds outside, and the sadly accustomed sight of the doctor looking down on me.

"How are you feeling?" she asks from the bedside.

I think for a second, a difficult task thanks to the acute throbbing pain of the brow that is reducing my whole face to a mass of sore flesh.

"My forehead hurts," I dumbly say at length. I sit up from the bed and the exertion momentarily intensifies the pain, making me dizzy. My hand involuntarily rises to the bandaged head as if to hold it, but I dare not touch the wound. It indeed hurts damnably.

"No kidding."

The doctor's face is far from pleased but not unkind. Looking up, I try weakly to grin at her to show that I am fine and manage instead a pathetic grimace.

"It looks like your eyes are focusing again. That's good. Say your name for me?

"Squall." I throw another quick scowl in the doctor's direction, this time in annoyance. She seems to be concerned that I might have more than one kind of head injury. I wasn't hit _that hard. The bastard... I wonder if he is also lying down somewhere in the infirmary now. A part of me likes to think that I've done that to him, that I've repaid him in kind, but a greater part of me will rather endure anything but the sight of him at the moment._

Dr. Kadowaki's voice ends my train of thought. "Why don't you take it easy in training? An inch to either direction would have slashed one of your eyes instead of the forehead—next time you might not be so lucky."

"Tell that to Seifer," I say sullenly.

"That Seifer..." The doctor frowns as she considers. "He certainly won't listen to anyone. Why don't you just ignore him?"

"Well, I can't just run from him."

"Listen to yourself, child; you are no less stubborn than he is. So you'll be a tough fellow, hmm? Well, then at least try to find a better way of being one than getting yourself carved up."

The woman is actually smirking, and I have to remind myself to ignore _her. She goes on: "Let's see... your instructor was... of course, Quistis. I'll go call her. You just wait here; you had better get a little more rest before heading out on your own feet."_

While the doctor talks on the phone, I recline back on the bed, gingerly laying a forearm over my eyes and nose to relieve an uncomfortable pressure from within that makes me fancy that my head is swelling. Now there's a thought... But I try not to think at all, and close my eyes to rest. If what I've heard is true, then I really need to rest, today more than ever. What a day I've picked for this to happen!

* * * * * * * *

"Squall... so we meet again."

At first the words, low and soft and belonging to an utterly unfamiliar voice, do not fully register on my pain-addled consciousness. Once they do, I turn my head to my right to find a young woman in blue beyond the tinted infirmary window. She is bending to take a good look at me. I, on the other hand, cannot see her face well at all, due to the angle and the dark glass. But she is no one I know. Before I say a word, she walks off.

Who was it?


	2. The Instructor

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**2.  The Instructor**

            Quistis entered the infirmary with measured and dignified steps.  She divined instinctively that her forbearance was about to be tested by whomever she would find there.  Upon catching his sight and confirming her suspicion, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply, shaking her head of long twin golden locks with just a touch of dramatic exaggeration.  Then against her better judgment she indulged in an amused smile at the figure on the bed.

            "I _knew it'd be either you or Seifer," she declared, arms folded authoritatively over the chest, as she leaned over her bedridden student with all the sternness of a mother who addressed a troublesome child.  _

He immediately arose and sat on the bed.  The way his jaw visibly clenched for a second showed that he found the movement not entirely comfortable.  A white bandage encircled his head above the eyes, tinged pink at the forehead.  

"Thankfully, Dr. K. says the wound shouldn't do more than leaving a scar.  And you know you ought to be thankful; it wouldn't do at all for you to get knocked out even before the field exam begins." 

            A grimacing half-nod from the young man told her that he had at least thought of that disaster, himself.  She grinned.  

"Well, then.  Get on your feet, cadet.  The exam is today and you've got work to do."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Quistis observed her student while they walked down the open corridor.  His characteristic reticence aside, the boy seemed lost in thought.  His face was curiously devoid of expression even for him, showing none of the customary frown that he assumed when thoughtful.

            "Squall, is there something on your mind?"

            The answer was a long time in coming.  The cadet continued walking at brisk pace, not bothering to see if his companion was keeping up with him.  When he finally acknowledged the question, it was with an answer all too predictable.

            "...Not really," he said at almost the same instant his instructor supplied her own "Not really, huh?"

            Quistis did not hide her snicker.  Squall halted in irritation.  A pair of passing female cadets looked at the two of them and whispered to each other.

            "What do you find so funny?" Squall asked, turning.  

That boy never does add the required honorific when talking to me, Quistis thought.  As usual, she let it slide.  "Funny?  No, no, it's not that at all," she said, waving her hands merrily.  "I'm just—glad.  Glad that I'm finally beginning to understand how the inscrutable mind of a certain student of mine works."

            "I'm not all that predictable as you might think, instructor," said Squall in a clipped tone.  

Warning, Quistis said to herself.  Now he _was adding the honorific.  "Seriously, Squall—if you don't want the people around you to be second-guessing your thoughts all the time, you should start telling them more about yourself."_

            "What I tell or don't tell others about myself is no..."

            "...None of my business, I know."

            Forgoing her better judgment for the third or fourth time in the morning, the young instructor snickered again.  His sentence cut off, Squall frowned and winced immediately; his wound was making furrowing of the brows painful.  Ah, Quistis mused as she walked ahead of her vexed pupil, so that's why he was being more stone-faced than usual.

            Over their heads, colorful drapes extending upward to the pinnacle of the azure conic tower wherein they walked proclaimed:

BALAMB GARDEN: HOME OF SeeD

Next chapter: Announcement

Your reviews and e-mail feedbacks will hasten the posting of the next chapter.  Even if the next chapters have already been posted, I'd be very grateful to know what you think of this chapter!  -PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)


	3. Announcement

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates 

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**3.  Announcement           **

            The instructor takes care to fall behind a little as we near the classroom, I suppose so that we will not be seen entering class together.  What a hassle being in authority is—one must watch for everything.  I am one of the last to arrive at class.  I take my seat near the back row and do not acknowledge the presence of Seifer.  Hating front row seats as much as I do, he sits a couple of desks to my right.  I note to my satisfaction, however, that he sports a vaguely crescent scar, fresh and crimson, that runs down between his eyes.  He has not bothered to dress the wound.  Typical of him.

            "Good morning."  Instructor Trepe takes her seat in front of the screen board and addresses the class.  Advanced Combat is composed largely of cadets who are approaching the age of compulsory dismissal from the Garden—twenty.  This places the instructor, herself only eighteen, at merely a year older than the majority of her students.  One cadet is of the same age as the instructor: Seifer Almasy.

            "Today's schedule is very simple," the instructor begins.  "There seems to have been a rumor flying around since yesterday... and I confirm it now.  The field exam for SeeD candidates will begin later this afternoon."  

            The announcement stirs a look of excitement and tribulation on many faces.  The instructor continues: "Those not participating and those who failed last week's written test are to remain here in the study hall.  Field exam participants will be given free time until the exam, which will commence at 1600 hours.  Assemble in the front foyer, and be sure that you are in top condition.  I will be announcing the team assignments at that time.

            "Any questions?" 

            There are none.  I wait for the instructor to dismiss the class.  I am glad for once that today's special schedule will help keep my early morning skirmish from becoming public information.

            "Oh, and Seifer!"

            Or maybe not.

            "Do _not_ injure your partner while training.  Be careful from now on."

            I do not spare a glance to see Seifer's reaction to the admonition, but it should be safe to assume that the savage thump just now was the sound of him taking one out on his study panel.  The guy can be such a little kid sometimes.  He's also probably shooting daggers at me with his eyes, but I am so peeved myself that I don't care if he gets any angrier than he normally is.  I keep my line of vision restricted to my own panel.     

            "Field exam participants, I will see you all later."

            And with that, the class is dismissed.  I remain in my seat until the other students leave the room, including Seifer, then rise to go.  

            "And Squall, I need to talk to you."

            Or maybe not.

            I make my way over to the instructor, who is engaged in conversation with a few students doing their best to impress her.  I wait till she terminates the talk and turns to me.    

            "You haven't been to Fire Cavern yet, have you?" she asks me.  "You do realize that you won't be able to participate in today's field exam if you don't pass this prerequisite."

            I know that.  I meant to go this morning, in fact, when Seifer with his damnably impeccable sense of timing so courteously proposed "a little exercise match to prepare for the test."  To get me loosened up for the real thing, he said.

            "Hmm?  Do you have a good excuse?"

            "…No, not really."

            "Then let's get going.  I will act as your supporting partner.  Meet me at the front gate at 1000 hours.  You might want to use the time until then to do some preparation—work off any medication Dr. Kadowaki gave you.  Oh, and it hardly needs to be said, but make sure that you junction your Guardian Forces optimally for action."

            "Fine."

            Waving to the other students who have stayed close by, the instructor leaves.  I move to leave myself when I notice that the cadets are giving me a strange look.  The two younger girls are quietly casting an icy glare at me, while the lone guy longingly remarks with a resigned shake of his head: "Alone with Instructor Trepe..."

            I leave.

Next chapter: Transfer Student

Your reviews and e-mail feedbacks will hasten the posting of the next chapter.  Even if the next chapters have already been posted, I'd be very grateful to know what you think of this chapter!

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)  


	4. Transfer Student

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates 

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**4.  Transfer Student   **

            The diminutive cadet ran breathlessly down the second floor hallway, drawing stares from others.  What an absolutely peachy way to begin a day this important, she screamed in her head.  _First I get the schedule mixed up, and then I get lost in this dang huge complex... oh!  "Rm 28D This Way__"... that has got to be the room!  I just need to take a right turn at this corner...  Oh, no, I'm late, I'm late, I'm so WAY late!_

            _CRASH!_

            "Oww...."

            Flat on her bottom, the girl looked up from the floor at whomever it was she had just run into.  Before her stood the figure of a boy in black who, despite not wearing a uniform, was clearly recognizable as a cadet.  Looking a little discomposed himself, the cadet simply stood there gazing down at her, not attempting to say anything.  What was up with him?  But no matter, she needed to get going _fast.  With a bounce the girl picked herself up, leaping back to her feet._

            "Tee-hee, I'm fine," she said cheerfully.  "Terribly sorry to have run into you!  I was in such a hurry to get to my class..."  She then took a second look at the boy and the direction that he had apparently been walking from.  "Wait a second—did you just come from that home room over there?  28D?"

            He nodded his head.  This was bad.  This was very, very bad.

            "Um... does that mean the class is already dismissed?"

            He nodded again.  _Booyaka!_

            "Oh, gaawd, no..." she groaned.  "I was supposed to report there, but then I confused my schedules, and then I got lost, and this place is _sooo much bigger than my last Garden!"_

            "You didn't miss much.  SeeD candidates are to assemble at the front foyer at 1600 hours to leave for the field exam.  The rest stay on campus for self-study, because a lot of the instructors will be gone as well."

            "Oh, I see.  That's good to know... thanks much!" she said in relief.  Then, a brilliant idea seized her.  "Oh, hey, hey.  Maybe you could help me out here a little.  I just transferred here, and I'm getting lost left and right.  Do you think you could give me a quick tour of this Garden, if you're not too busy?"

            The unknown student did not captivated by the request.  Undaunted, the girl looked to him with expectation twinkling in her green eyes.

            "I'm rather busy this morning," the boy said after a few moments.  "But I am on my way to downstairs, and I could show you the campus directory at the foyer.  It should have all the information you need."

            "That's just what I need!  _Woo-hoo, then!  Let's go!"_

            Seeing the girl's explosive enthusiasm, the boy looked suddenly unsure of his own decision.

I write for your reviews.  Seriously, I do.  –PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com) 


	5. At the Cafeteria

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com) **

**5.  At the Cafeteria    **

            Having conducted the transfer student to the campus directory and given her a few quick explanations, I take leave of the Peppiest Girl That Ever Lived.  It seems that she, the tiny lady she is, already completed training at Trabia Garden and transferred here to join SeeD.  She will also be taking the field exam today, she said.  It's difficult to imagine someone like her on the battlefield.  

            I have about an hour before meeting up with the instructor.  I head to the cafeteria to get myself some refreshment.  It is not recommended to eat shortly before combat, but it has been an eventful morning, and I will not head out to fight with nothing but painkillers in my system.

            Upon arrival, I note with some dismay that standing by the vending machine near the entrance are none other than Seifer and his two cronies—Fuujin, the damsel with an eyepatch, and Raijin, the muscleman.  The three of them make up the small but phenomenally pesky Student Disciplinary Committee of Balamb Garden.  Why the master faculty decided to leave a committee like that in the hands of the worst miscreant in the Garden eludes me.  Most likely Seifer took over the committee from whoever headed it before him through some kind of unpublicized coup.  

            "Seifer.  Drink?" asks Fuujin.  Seifer makes no response, his arms folded and his head down, deep in thought.  

            Raijin's thick, loud voice interjects.  "Can I drink somethin'?  I'd like some spring water, y'know."

            Fuujin's lone grey eye hardly even rolls in the burly cadet's direction.  "...Ignore."  She is in the unique habit of limiting her speech to a single word between periods.  Sometimes she will expand it to two or three words in a fit of magnanimity, but I wouldn't be surprised if no one here has ever heard her utter a complete sentence in private conversation.  To my knowledge, she comes from some distant spot on the globe where the language structure apparently makes that sort of speech halfway decipherable, if not completely natural.  But when spoken in direct translation to our language in her idiosyncratic manner, the effect is something freaky.

            I approach Seifer and Company, not because I want to but because they stand squarely in the way into the cafeteria.  Seifer looks up for a second, and says as his head plunges back down into whatever reverie that has occupied him: "Squall, can't you see that the Disciplinary Committee is busy?  Don't bother us."

            What the hell?  I haven't even said anything. 

            "Yo, it's Squall," Raijin announces.  Announce is the right word; his voice always roars.  For his size, however, he is actually the mildest of the bunch.  "Oh, yeah.  Fuujin was about to treat us, y'know?  You want something?"

            "_Rage!" _

            That was from Fuujin, and with it she delivers a vicious kick to the big man's shin.  Raijin groans and jumps about precariously on one foot, rubbing the hurt shin.  It is a pathetic sight, but to Raijin's credit he is in genuine anguish; a martial artist's kick to the shin can inflict no small amount of pain, no matter how ridiculous it may look.  Almost grabbing my shoulder for support—I veer out of his way quickly—, Raijin whispers to me:  "Fuujin's got a really short temper sometimes, you know?  Better watch it, but I keep forgettin'."   

            "What?"  

            That was again Fuujin, who of course heard Raijin.  He had actually thought she wouldn't be able to hear him.  He hastily bellows, "O-oh!  It's nothing!"

            Enough of this, _really.  I move to pass by the Disciplinary Committee.  A rush of blue uniform from behind beats me to it.  It is a cadet, and he makes a beeline right through the four of us to the cafeteria counter.  Coming to a halt before one of the cafeteria ladies, the cadet huffs and heaves in exhaustion for a few moments and declares the reason for his prodigious urgency:_

            "Do... you have—_huff—any __hotdogs left?" _

            "Sorry, sonny, but I'm afraid you're a bit late.  They were all sold out earlier than usual, what with the excitement about the field exam and all."

            "DAMN!" howls the cadet, shoulders slumping.  "Not again...!  It's hopeless if you aren't an early bird...  Fine, I'll try again next time..."  Dejected, he turns around and goes back the way he came, walking by us with considerably gentler speed than before.  The front locks of his blond hair stick up like a rooster's head.  It could be due to his mad run just now, but I doubt it.            

"...Indoor speeding."  Seifer breaks the silence.

            "What?" I say.

            "Let's go arrest that student for violation of academy conduct regulations.  Come on, Fuujin, Raijin!"

            "Affirmative!" says Fuujin.

            "Roger, boss!" echoes Raijin.  The committee exits after the cadet.

            I take a light breakfast and drink and seat myself at an unoccupied table.  The cafeteria is crowded this morning because of the lax regular schedule in preparation of the SeeD field exam.  Talks about the field exam abound, and the conversation of three cadets at the table next to mine makes its way into my ears.

            "So today's the SeeD field exam...," one of them says with a distinctive sigh.

            "I choked last time... I was way too nervous," says another.

            "At least you made it to the field exam!" the third exclaims.  "I can't even pass my written test yet!"

            "Well, I guess you're just not as brilliant as I am."

            "Yeah, right!  I already heard you are getting stuck on campus this time 'cause your teach thinks you're slipping in your study."

            "Well, then... I guess we all suck."

            "We're just a sad bunch...  It sure oughtta at least qualify us for 'SaaD'..."

            "Right, *SaaaaD*...."

            I tune them out of my attention and focus it on eating.  Breakfast ended, I rise to dump my plate and leave.  

            "Hey, Squall, I hear you're taking the field exam today, too."

            I turn to see the speaker.  He is a tall cadet whose face is vaguely familiar but whose name I cannot recall.  I think I take a class with him.  Maybe two.  I hope he doesn't have much to talk to me about; it could get awkward.

            "Yeah," I simply answer.

            "I'm taking it also.  You're sure to pass it easily, huh?"

            "I'll find out this afternoon."  Was his name Ni... something?

            "I'll bet you will.  Hey, have you heard about this card club on campus?  They call themselves the CC Group—basically a bunch of card maniacs looking for worthy opponents day and night."

            I'm getting impatient fast.  I _hate random small talks.  "So?"_

            "Well, cards are a big deal with SeeD's, you know.  It's like a revered pastime of theirs, because they can play cards even out in the field.  Once we become SeeD's ourselves, we're sure to be challenged to games by a lot of card-playing SeeD's, and it'll be really awkward if you don't even know how to play.  Being good at cards is like a mark of any genuine SeeD member—a bonding activity, you know?"

            This conversation is what _I_ am finding really awkward at the moment.  "Whatever.  I'm off.  Good luck on your exam."

            "Thanks!  The same to you." 

            Thank Heavens I didn't have to recall his name.

Next chapter: Fire Cavern

Your reviews and e-mail feedbacks will hasten the posting of the next chapter.  Even if the next chapters have already been posted, I'd be very grateful to know what you think of this chapter!

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com) 


	6. Fire Cavern

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com) **

**6.  Fire Cavern           **

            Squall found Quistis waiting just outside the front gate.  Having shed her spectacles and SeeD uniform, the youngest instructor at Balamb Garden was hardly recognizable as a combat specialist in her casual gear.  

            "I have a few things to explain before we head off," she said upon his arrival.  "Guardian Forces are the sources of our power.  Without the GF's help, a SeeD's physical or magical strength suffers from severe limitations.  Your job in Fire Cavern will be to locate and enlist a GF.  You will do so by defeating the GF in combat.  From this point on until the end of the test, I will support and advise you in combat, but all other decisions will be entirely yours to handle.  These include the decisions to initiate or withdraw from any battles as well as the route we will take to reach our destination.  We must return here with spare time before 1600 hours, or taking the test will have been pointless.  Do you understand?"

            "Yes."

            "Very well.  The cavern is located east of the Garden.  Lead the way, Squall."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            The pair traveled on foot through the forest.  On the way they encountered a few minor monsters and beasts, and Quistis was impressed to see that her student hardly broke a sweat in exterminating them.  It had been a long time since she had seen him in actual combat instead of training sessions, and this was the first time she fought alongside him.  The guy is gifted, all right, she thought to herself.  

The weapon of his choice was a rare breed of sword called gunblade, which had a hilt shaped in the form of a large pistol handle, complete with a trigger and revolving ammunition slots.  Its mechanism involved charging the magically treated blade with massive energy and unleashing it by pulling the trigger as the wielder struck at an enemy.  For untrained hands, it was a supremely clumsy weapon, heavy and unbalanced due to its bent shape.  Even an accomplished swordsman would find it useless, for while the gunblade resembled a sword, it worked in ways that had little to do with ordinary swordsmanship.  One had to be specifically trained to handle a gunblade for months before even wielding it properly, and mastering it generally required many more years of practice.

Quistis vividly remembered the times, scarcely three years prior, when the reticent youth could hardly land an accurate hit on a moving target without getting himself knocked back from the reverberation of the energy surge.  She had not been an instructor or even a SeeD then, but that had not kept her from noticing his dogged persistency.  Fiercely he committed himself to mastery of the powerful sword, a weapon that few other cadets ever even attempted to specialize in, for it was quite possible that they would reach the dreaded age of twenty before attaining proficiency.    

            Squall Leonhart was seventeen.  He was one of the only two gunblade specialists that Balamb Garden had yet produced.  Seifer Almasy was the other expert.  

Such supremely rare talents, Quistis mused, and they had to be each other's nemeses.  _I wonder how those two will get along once their skills are put to real use?_

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            It was shortly before noon that they reached Fire Cavern.  The gaping black opening was an ominous presence at the base of an otherwise plain rocky hill.  The faint but unmistakable scent of molten minerals was detectable even from some distance, and Squall saw that the blurry quality of the atmosphere visible over and around the hill was the work of the ever-present heat emanating from earth.  Two members of the Garden master staff, who wore monk-like robes that covered them from head to toes, awaited them at the entrance to the cavern.  

            "This is Squall Leonhart, Student No. 41269," Quistis stated.  "He is a SeeD candidate."

            One of the officials nodded.  "The objective is to obtain a low-level Guardian Force inside the cavern.  A SeeD member must support.  Are you ready?"

            Placing an upright hand before his torso, Squall saluted the staff members.  "I am ready," he said.

            "I am his support," Quistis followed, saluting as well.  "Instructor No. 14, Quistis Trepe."

            "Do not tarry inside or you may be overcome by the fume of the cavern.  Good luck."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "Remember," Quistis said as she followed Squall into the cavern, whose rugged walls glowed in reflection of the heated red of lava that flowed all around their path.  "My job is to support you in battle.  Everything else is up to you."

            "Fine," Squall replied, not looking back or slowing down his running pace.           

            "You know, the boys often choke on this test when I come along," Quistis quipped from behind.  "I guess my charm is something of a distraction for them."

            That stopped the cadet.  He turned around and gave his instructor a funny look.

            "I'm kidding!  Just trying to keep you relaxed, that's all."

            Squall resumed his run.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Not forty yards into the cavern, they encountered their first enemy.  

            "The monsters in this cave are mostly fire elemental," said Quistis, assuming battle stance with her trusted metal whip.  "You know what to do, Squall?"

            "Ice attack," Squall replied as he cast blizzard, crushing the fiery flying monster under an onslaught of charged frost.

            "I guess I was right," Quistis declared after five minutes and eight dead beasts.  "You and Seifer are in a class of your own in battle potentials.  You both have astonishing strength and stamina."  

            _Now why do you have to fight all the time?_

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Its formidable appearance notwithstanding, Fire Cavern's interior had actually been modified by the Garden to prevent the participating cadets from getting lost in it, for doing so would mean certain doom for them. Diverging paths were either blocked or cut off, leaving unobstructed only the main path to the prearranged destination at the heart of the cavern.  Still, the intense natural heat and the eerie scarlet lighting, plus its abundance of less than friendly inhabitants, made the cavern an excellent place to try the fortitude of fledgling warriors.  With seven minutes left on the timer, Squall thus found himself before a well-like depression of the ground at the end of the road.      

            "All right, this is it.  Are you ready?" Quistis asked from behind.

            The cadet replied with a wave of his hand, not taking his eyes off the chasm in front of him.

            "You seem confident enough," the instructor observed.

            A roaring noise issued from the depth of the pit.  Burning fragments of the earth flew out from below, and amid their flames leaped the figure of a crimson giant onto the surface.

Next chapter: Ifrit

Your reviews and e-mail feedbacks will hasten the posting of the next chapter.  Even if the next chapters have already been posted, I'd be very grateful to know what you think of this chapter!

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)


	7. Ifrit

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com) **

**7.  Ifrit **

            "_Ifrit!" Quistis cried.  "The Guardian Force of fire."_

            "Instructor," said Squall quickly.  "Keep your distance and cover me with restorative spells.  I'll handle the offense."

            "_Impudent humans..." the horned GF growled, enraged by the youth's self-assurance.  Moving with speed remarkable for his size, Ifrit charged at his challenger, striking him dead-on with a massive paw.  Squall blocked the hit with a deft counter swing of the gunblade, but he was pushed back by the sheer force of the blow.  He couldn't afford to take a look, but Squall figured  the acute pain at his side meant that he was at least badly bruised and possibly bleeding.  Even with his physical endurance enhanced through junctioning of magic, he calculated that two or three consecutive blows like that would mean his end.  _

            Clearly, he needed to claim the match in the speediest way possible.

            "Instructor!"

            "Got it!" cried Quistis, casting a cure spell on the cadet.  At the same instant Squall hit Ifrit with a barrage of descending blizzard.  The giant was momentarily brought to his knees.  Squall lost no time in making a dash at the flaming beast, gunblade poised to strike.  A clean blow of the sword delivered directly under the chin sent Ifrit toppling backwards and landing on his backside.

            "Instructor, hit him with blizzard, now!" Squall shouted as he brought his left hand to his forehead, concentrating on summoning his long-time principal Guardian Force: Shiva of the ice crystal.  Having been well trained through years of allegiance, Shiva arrived within seconds.  Just as Quistis finished mashing Ifrit under another round of blizzard, the ice spirit unleashed a deadly wave of arctic storm upon the fire GF.

            "_They have Shiva?" Ifrit exclaimed as he nearly fell back once again, attempting with his arms to shield himself from the paralyzing cold.  But Squall was already upon him.  He brought down the gunblade in full force upon the opponent's skull, catching him squarely between the great horns.  Ifrit collapsed._

            "_For me to lose to a human...," the GF groaned, nearly a full minute later, as he shakily arose from the ground._

            "Does the battle continue?" Squall asked, not loosening the stance of his weapon.

            Ifrit regarded the unknown youth seriously.  "_No... A Guardian Force is destined to live by human summoners.  He only seeks to be realized through worthy summoners.  Very well, I will join you."_

            "Very well," said Squall, withdrawing the gunblade.  "My name is Squall."

            "_I am Ifrit."  _

In a glow of crimson light the beast disappeared, but Squall could now sense his presence—in his head.  It was always a strangely private, even intimate, experience, contracting with a new Guardian Force.   

            "Congratulations," Quistis said, moving to his side.  "You pass with flying colors, though that doesn't mean earning your SeeDship will be an easy task.  Still, obtaining an additional GF before heading out to the real field cannot possibly hurt.  Be advised, however, that managing GF's becomes increasingly difficult as you contract with a greater number of them.  Keeping them in good condition and sharing their powers appropriately with your SeeD companions will be of critical importance in future missions.  Now then, let's get out of here.  The lava fume is giving me a headache, and I can't stand this ridiculous heat, either."

Next chapter: Assignment

Your reviews and e-mail feedbacks will hasten the posting of the next chapter.  Even if the next chapters have already been posted, I'd be very grateful to know what you think of this chapter!

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)   


	8. Assignment

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com) **

**8.  Assignment**

            On the way back to the Garden, I try summoning Ifrit against a few monsters.  Though at this point it takes a great deal of concentration on my part to summon him, his power is remarkable.  With training he will soon grow to be a formidable ally in battle.  

            "I am surprised that they made you battle Ifrit," the instructor tells me as we walk back.  "His level is low, but that'll of course be fixed in due time.  But regardless of his level, he is an extremely strong opponent for a cadet—especially in Fire Cavern, where the environment adds to his already considerable strength.  The Garden must have high expectations of you, Squall.  Ifrit was their gift to you as well as their means of testing you."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            We make it back to the Garden's front gate with good two hours left till the field exam begins.  As we part, the instructor orders me to change into my uniform and report to the front foyer on time.  Returning to my shared quarter in the dormitory complex, I take an hour to rest up.  Curative spells are useful in battle, but ironically that sort of forcible, radical restoration of the body can become rather taxing on its own when repeated.  Sleeping while curative magic is junctioned is a gentler, more thorough way of recovering with the aid of magic.  I hope that punch I got from Ifrit doesn't hinder me in the field exam. 

            I get up at 1500 hours sharp and don the cadet's uniform.  A final checkup on the gunblade, to make sure it is set at maximum capacity, completes my preparation for the exam.  Ready to leave, I step up in front of the bathroom mirror and undo the bandage around my head, taking the first look at Seifer's gift between my eyes.  The wound looks disturbingly similar to the one I gave him—a sharp diagonal slash, a little shy of two inches in length, that runs from above the brow down to the upper end of the bridge of my nose.  Thanks to the effect of magic, it is more than half healed, already more a scar than a wound.  It is no longer painful, but I find myself depressed over the thought that I will long bear Seifer's vile mark.      

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            I make my way to the front foyer ten minutes ahead of time.  A good number of students as well as uniformed SeeD and faculty members are already gathered there, talking in groups.  Although some faces look nervous and anxious, the general atmosphere is lively as giggles and laughter ring out all over the place; how could it not be, when you have a bunch of excited teenagers gathered at one place?  One would have thought the group was meeting for a field trip or something.  There are actually too many cadets present—I think many of them are there to see their friends off.  Instructor Trepe, back in her uniform, is present as well.  She waves me over upon noticing me from distance.  

            "I'll be announcing the squad assignments for the field exam shortly," she tells me as I arrive.   "Let's see...  Squall, you will be with..."  She checks the list of candidates in her hands.  "...Zell Dincht.  Quite a lively fellow.  Over here, Zell!"

            I follow the instructor's gaze and behold a blond-haired cadet engaged in solo practice of some kind of martial arts moves.  He seems proficient at what he does, smoothly executing a series of elaborate if somewhat arbitrary kicks and hooks.  Wait a second, isn't that... the chicken-headed hotdog maniac, from the cafeteria this morning?

            "Lively, did you say?" I say darkly to the instructor in a sudden premonition of doom.  "_Loud is what he is.  Can't I switch squads?"_

            "I'm afraid that's not possible."

            The premonition grows stronger.           

            Mr. Zell Dincht is now rounding up his practice with a double back flip, making an exemplary landing on both feet near where the instructor and I stand.  The gymnastic performance concluded, he turns toward us and, I think, greets the instructor with a confident thumbs-up and a cocky smile.  Yep, the hair is still there—definitely deliberate.

            "Whoa!  I'm with you?" he exclaims upon seeing me.  This guy knows me?  Maybe I took classes with him, too.  Remembering people never was my strong suit. ...Now, what _is he doing?  He is vigorously rubbing his hand on his uniform pants, as if wiping something off his palm... and he extends in my direction said hand, wrapped in combat glove, inviting me to shake it.  No thanks, pal.  I don't do kiddie shakes._

            After a few seconds, Zell retracts his hand awkwardly.  His spirit undeterred, he immediately goes on to say: "You don't get along with Seifer, do you?  Heard he whooped you pretty bad this morning."

            Zell, why do you do this?  Why do you have to mention that jerk's name when I'm already irked as it is at being paired with you?  What good could you possibly think this will do either of us?  

            "We weren't fighting.  We were training."

            "I betcha _he doesn't think so," Zell opines.  And suddenly he becomes sympathetic, of all things.  "Look, Seifer's just being a pain in the ass, the way he was born.  All you gotta do is pay no attention to him."_

            Ah, so that's what the deal is.  I recall witnessing the Student Disciplinary Committee in action earlier today.  Sounds like Mr. Zell got into a little trouble with the respected chairman of the committee.  Maybe it wasn't even his first time.  Great—now I may have to endure this guy bellyaching about _Seifer in some wretched attempt at male bonding for the duration of the exam.  Can this get worse?   _

            "_Ahem, excuse me, but...," the instructor interjects, "that Seifer you two are talking about—I should let you know that he happens to have been named the leader of your squad."_

            No, no, no.

            "What did you say?" Zell roars, eyes threatening to pop out of the sockets.

            "And before you ask: you can't switch squads."  The instructor's tone is apologetic.

            And that's when Seifer, tagging with him the rest of the Disciplinary Committee as usual, chooses to make his entrance.  Flanked by his menacing friends, he walks as if he owns the place, and the knowing cadets reinforce that woeful imagery by voluntarily clearing a path at the sight of his naked gunblade slung over his shoulder.  The others, SeeD and especially the faculty people, look at him distastefully as his party passes by them.  

Instructor Trepe gives him a polite smile.  "Seifer, meet your squad members; I believe you already know them.  You are the squad captain.  Good luck to you."

            "...Instructor," Seifer says smoothly.  "I hate it when people wish me luck."  Raijin guffaws behind him.  "Save words like that for the struggling cadets who need them, eh?"

            The instructor does not lose the smile.  "All right, then—Good luck, Seifer."

            Seifer blinks, then scowls.  It is Zell's turn to let out a laughter.  Turning to Fuujin, Seifer growls none too softly, "Add Instructor Trepe to the list."

            The list?

            "Well, then," continues the instructor, unfazed.  "The three of you—Seifer, Squall, and Zell—are assigned to Squad B.  I will be the instructor in charge of the squad, however, the captain will have the responsibility of leading the squad in combat.  Teamwork is of the utmost importance in this mission.  Let's get through the exam together, everyone!"

            "Listen up," Seifer growls once again, this time to Zell and me.  "Teamwork means following my orders—and staying out of my way.  It's the Squad B rule.  Don't you forget it!"

            Zell appears about ready to blow his head, clenching his fists while his face turns an interesting shade of pink-purple.  Then the Headmaster approaches us.  

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Cid Kramer is a courteous, bespectacled, mild-mannered man in his forties.  He is in fact much too pleasant to be the headmaster of an academy that trains professional mercenaries—or so I think.  How he even got to have that position, I will never understand.  But as long as Balamb Garden has existed in my memory, so has Headmaster Cid.

            "Is everyone present?" he inquires, facing the assembly.  "It's been a while.  How's everyone doing?"  Polite murmurs from several people; Cid is not known for his insistence on strict interpersonal formality.  The Headmaster continues: 

            "Today's field exam will involve twelve cadets from Squads A to D.  As you know, the rather unpredictable schedule, frequency, and scale of exams such as this stem from the fact that they involve actual military situations as they arise all over the planet.  You will be proceeding to a real battlefield where you will engage in _bona fide battles against enemies who will do their best to annihilate you.  Life and death, victory and defeat, honor and disgrace... only one of each pair may prevail at any given moment, yet the pair itself always goes hand in hand, making it impossible for one to eliminate the other permanently.  Make use of your training, future SeeD's, and be sure to keep yourselves on the right side of the line of balance.  How about it?  Are you still up for it?"  _

            The Headmaster pauses, sweeping the group with his gaze.  "You will be accompanied by veteran SeeD members, some of them your own instructors.  Should you fail in your mission, these will get the job done.  They always do.  

            "The pride of Balamb Garden—the elite mercenary force, SeeD!  Learn from them, obey their orders, and accomplish the mission.  Prove yourselves worthy of becoming members of SeeD.  Best of luck to you all."

            We are dismissed.  I move to follow the others to the parking lot, where cars are ready to take us from campus, but then I hear the headmaster's voice calling my name from behind.  I turn back to find him regarding me seriously.  

            "We've yet to have a gunblade specialist in the Balamb branch of SeeD," he says, placing one chubby hand on my shoulder.  "That is why I am hoping that Seifer and you will join us.  Put your rivalry aside, and cooperate with him.  Together you two will become valuable assets to the force.  Now go."

            In the car, I think about his words and do not like what he might have meant by them.

Next chapter: On the Way

Your reviews and e-mail feedbacks will hasten the posting of the next chapter.  Even if the next chapters have already been posted, I'd be very grateful to know what you think of this chapter!

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)


	9. On the Way

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**9.  On the Way    **

            Zell was getting antsy.  Besides the muted roar of the car engine, the short drive to the town of Balamb was proceeding in flat silence.  He looked around at the three people who shared the passenger space of the Garden vehicle with him.  The pretty instructor seated across from him had been still as a sculpture for the past five minutes, looking directly ahead, maybe thinking about something.  How did _she ever become a SeeD __and an instructor so early? mused Zell.  __I hear she's only a couple of years older than me... man! think of that.  __She has to have some major gift.  Guess you can't judge a book by its cover... not that I ever read anything much._

            Zell looked over to Seifer Almasy, who sat two seats next to the instructor.  The bastard looked grumpy as ever, though he didn't seem particularly stressed out about the impending exam, laid back comfortably in his seat with his long legs stretched out.  I can NOT believe I ended up with him for my squad captain, Zell said to himself.  Somebody up there did not like him—somebody like the staff member who decided on the squad arrangement.  _Oh, well... I guess with only twelve cadets taking the exam this time, the odds weren't exactly impossible for something like this to happen.  _

            Seifer's shining gunblade, resting in a slant against the shoulder of its owner, attracted Zell's eyes.  If one were to dwell on the odds of the matter, he decided, the most notable of them clearly had to do with the fact that there were _two gunblade users in his squad.  Now that was something one did not see often.  Zell saw that this could mean bad news for him.  The two cadets, well known in the Garden for their skills as well as their rivalry, could together outshine him easily in the field if he didn't play right.  No way he was going to let that happen, he resolved._

            Zell's thoughts brought his attention to the last of his companions, who had been quietly brooding over something, his eyes fixed on the floor between his feet, once the car began moving.  Ever since their quasi-introduction, Squall Leonhart had made it plain that he was not a sociable type of fellow.  Yet Zell figured he needed to get along with the tight-lipped cadet to pass the field exam.  He could not be enemies with _both of his squad members and expect to succeed on the mission.  Squall couldn't be half as bad as Seifer... or could he?  He clearly hated Seifer's guts, so he had to have some redeeming qualities somewhere in him, didn't he?  He was no Mr. Friendly, but then he didn't seem to have the kind of chronic attitude problems that Seifer suffered from—like whipping out his weapon just for display even before the battle began...  __Come to think of it, he doesn't seem to have his weapon on him at all.  Did he put it away or something?  _

            "Hey, Squall.  Show me your gunblade, wouldya?"

            "........"  No response.  

            "C'mon, man.  Be a sport."

            "........"

            Zell was persistent.  "Just a peek?"            

            Squall betrayed no sign that he heard anything.  Zell sighed.  "Tch, fine...  A real Uncle Scrooge, aren't you?"

            Still not a twitch of acknowledgment.  His exasperation aside, Zell was getting a little desperate now.  "Hey, say _something, will ya?  What's on your mind?"                    _

            "Nothing."  

The answer had come from two people simultaneously: Squall and the instructor.  Squall glanced dourly at the instructor.  She looked down at her lap quickly, hiding the beginning of a smile as well as a stifled giggle.  Zell looked at the two of them curiously.  What was with them?  

            The passengers were back to stony silence again, and after the momentary reprieve Zell found it all the more tiresome.  _What to do, what to do...  He decided on continuing his warm-up exercise; after all, the routine of brushing up on his moves anywhere and everywhere was what brought him this far.  Getting up, he started to throw punches at imaginary foes in the air.  _

            "Stop that... it's getting on my nerves," said Seifer.  "...Chicken-wuss."

            Zell looked at his squad captain with murder in his eyes.  "What _did you call me?" he shouted.  _

Seifer sneered.  Quistis rose from her seat, a hand at her side.

            "Knock it off, both of you.  Have you forgotten that attitude and conduct are also parts of your exam scores?  Keep in mind that the exam _has already begun."_

            Zell sank back into his seat, sulking.  The instructor did the same, shaking her head.  This did not bode well, she thought.  _I figured Squall and Seifer were a lost cause in comradeship, but then to add a third one who is so hotheaded...  _

            Another minute passed.  Squall looked up from the floor.  "Instructor," he called.  "Who was that girl in the infirmary this morning?"

            Quistis regarded her student, surprised at his remark.  "Was someone else there?  I didn't see anyone."  _Now what is this about, all of a sudden? _

            Seifer issued a mirthless laughter.  "Well, isn't this just great," he muttered.  "I've got in my squad a chicken-wuss and a guy who's hit puberty an hour before the battle.  Just lovely."

            Squall opted to ignore the remark.  Zell was not so successful in doing the same and audibly gnashed his teeth.  Quistis sighed, shaking her head once again.

Next chapter: Dollet

Your reviews and e-mail feedbacks will hasten the posting of the next chapter.  Even if the next chapters have already been posted, I'd be very grateful to know what you think of this chapter!

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)    


	10. Dollet

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates 

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**10.  Dollet**

            The Garden car takes us into the nearby harbor town of Balamb, dropping us off at the dock where SeeD attack cruisers await us.  I note that only one of the dozen or so cruisers is still anchored to the dock, signifying that we are the last of the squads to get onboard.  The vessel starts moving as soon as the hatch closes shut behind us.  A familiar-looking female SeeD member greets the squad in the cramped main compartment of the cruiser.

            "Welcome aboard, field exam participants.  Hello, Quistis."

            "Hi, Xu.  These are the Squad B members."                                              

            "Nice to meet you, ma'am!"  Zell salutes the SeeD.

            "Pleased to meet you," I say, saluting also.  Seifer doesn't bother with pleasantry, already having seated himself.  Evidently not offended, Xu cuts him an amused if a little twisted grin.

            "Back again, Seifer?  How many times has it been now?"

            Seifer doesn't lose a beat.  "Oh, you know, I just love these exams..."          

            Xu's snort is distinct amid the noise of the high-speed cruiser.  She takes her place in front of the briefing screen.

            "I will explain the current situation and the mission.  Take your seats."

            We do.  Xu proceeds immediately.

            "Our client for this mission is the Dollet Dukedom Parliament.  Request for SeeD intervention was made eighteen and half hours ago.

            "Dollet has been under attack by the Galbadian Army forces for approximately seventy-two hours.  Forty-nine hours into the city-wide battle, Dollet forces abandoned their positions in the inner city and retreated into the nearby mountains, where they are currently reorganizing their troops.  That's the basic current status.

            "Now on to the mission objective.  According to reconnaissance reports, the G-Army invasion force has diverted the better part of its troops to mop up the Dollet troops in the mountains.  We are to make a landing at Lapin Beach.  The mission objective for the SeeD candidates is to eliminate the remaining Galbadians within the city and help liberate it A.S.A.P.  Once the city is secured, SeeD members will intercept any G-Army forces trying to reclaim the city from the mountains.  At this time, the exam participants are to assist SeeD members in engaging and eliminating the Galbadian forces that manage to push back into the city."   

            "...Sounds important," mutters Zell, almost to himself.  

            "Sounds boring," Seifer picks up quickly.  "So what will _you people be doing during all this?  There are only twelve candidates—you gonna let this nice little fleet just stand by and watch while we do all the dirty work?"_

            "SeeD members _will make their landing and proceed to combat zones alongside the exam participants.  However, they will whenever possible yield the front line to the cadets, allowing them to demonstrate their competence and at the same time observing them—until such a time when it becomes imperative for them to take active control of the situation."_

            "When we screw up, you mean."

            Xu regards Seifer patiently.  She wisely switches her addressee back to the entire squad.  "Oh, and this goes without saying, but the order to withdraw takes priority.  Do not forget that returning to the landing site on time is required for successful completion of the exam.  We will reach the destination shortly.  We anticipate a battle upon disembarking, so be prepared for immediate action.  That is all for the mission briefing.  If you have any questions, direct them to the instructor in charge of the squad."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "We'll be landing pretty soon.  Be ready," says Instructor Trepe as she returns from the control room.  "Remember that your objective is to eliminate the Galbadians inside the city.  The idea is for you to engage them in small groups at a time.  You must take caution not to push too deep into larger Galbadian companies, however, you must not hesitate to avail yourselves on an opportunity to rout as much of the invasion force as possible before withdrawing."

            "Roger."

            "Understood."

            "Yeah, Yeah..." says Seifer carelessly.  "All you boys have to do is take orders from me, the captain.  ...Well then, Squall, go see what's going on outside."

            I look at Seifer, who has deemed it fit to address that last remark not to me but to the wall that he's been staring at.  What the hell kind of order is that?  Nonetheless, it _is an order, and I only need to endure this farce for a few hours.  "All right."  I rise from my seat to climb the ladder.  As I open the top hatch, I hear Seifer's voice again behind me._

            "Hey, you look like you're about to piss your pants.  If you're that nervous, at least wait till we make the landing."

            "Huh?  You talking to _me?" is Zell's incensed reply, and suddenly I am glad that Seifer has ordered me out of the compartment.  _

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    

            The pale full moon has appeared precociously in the afternoon sky.  In the open air above the seemingly infinite ocean, the swiftly sailing SeeD vessels to my left and right are deceptively quiet as they leave behind orderly parallels of foam trails.  At last, a set of closely situated dark specks appear at the center of the immaculate curve of the horizon.  The specks quickly widen and connect to form a dark sliver, and within minutes the sliver thickens, rising above the sea as the rugged shore of Dollet.  Flames flicker momentarily along the shoreline and decorate the fast-approaching beach.  

            Somewhere beyond that beach, people are fighting—and dying.  

            Somewhere beyond that beach, I will kill today.

            The instructor's voice calls me from the deck below.  "Squall, we are about to land.  Come on back down."

            I do.


	11. Battle Begins

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**11. Battle Begins**

            "Attention: landing within sixty seconds.  There's a low wall ahead.  Looks like barricade.  We're breaking through—hold on _tight and brace for impact.  Lapin Beach, closing in forty-five seconds."_

            A high-pitched surge in the scream of the propulsion engine followed at the heel of the intercom message.  The cruiser's fore abruptly lifted off the sea surface and led the rest of the vessel in a sharp-slanted leap clear above the water.  The passengers held onto handrails, trying to keep both feet grounded on the floor.  For one breath-stopping second there was for all inside the ship a queer sensation of weightlessness when the ship reached the zenith of the jump.  Then a violent metallic bang rocked the vessel as its airborne belly cut through the top of the brick hurdle midair, leaving behind a ten-foot-wide dent on the structure.  Less than a second later, an even greater collision engulfed the cruiser in a seismic jolt as it plunged back into the water.  Zell cursed loudly, barely hanging on to avoid landing on his bottom when gravity returned with vengeance.  Seifer, giddy with excitement, released a thrilled, reckless laughter.

            "How does this tiny thing endure shocks like that?  And the fight hasn't even begun yet!" shouted Zell amid the rumble.

            "This tiny thing is the latest SeeD model-F armored cruiser, idiot—this baby's the toughest thing with an engine on the whole damn eastern coast!" Seifer shouted back with contemptuous glee.

            "Landing imminent.  Prepare to disembark!"  The words were from the intercom.

            "Enough talk.  Get ready, all of you!" cried Quistis.  

            The ship shook again.  Within seconds it came to a halt with the noise of sand dragging underneath.  The fore hatch burst open, and before all lay the vision of the barren beach that had suddenly come alive with the arrival of the SeeD vessels.

            Squad B members jumped onto the beach.  Their feet dug into the soft sand, a stark contrast to the steel floor that they had been treading moments before.  Squall quickly surveyed the beach with his eyes.  Already cadets and SeeD members were storming the site, sprinting towards the walled outskirt of the city that loomed ahead.  The dark SeeD cruisers with gaping hatches were lined up along the shore, looking, Squall thought, like so many beached whales.  Then Quistis' voice took hold of his attention.

            "All right, move into the city.  You are to secure Central Square.  Seifer, I hope you've been studying that map on the way.  Be sure to neutralize all Galbadians at your post and on the way to it.  Good luck, everyone!"

            "Get those legs moving!  I won't be responsible if you fall behind!" Seifer shouted, running ahead.  Squall and Zell followed the squad captain.  

            Quistis watched the three cadets who were quickly diminishing into distance.  "Merciful God," she mumbled, "if they must get hurt today, then let it at least be at the hands of the _enemy!"_

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            The three cadets reached the border of the city and ran up the stairs that took them from the sandy shore to the colossal concrete platform upon which the city stood.  Dollet's geography was a mixture of extreme features that contributed to the city's cherished picturesque image.  Though the city itself was situated near the sea level, tall mountains abounding in nearly vertical cliffs towered at both sides of the city.  With its old-fashioned streets and architecture, Dollet Dukedom boasted an atmosphere at once cozy and grand, settled snugly among great precipices at the bottom of the valley and overlooking the ocean.  At the moment, however, there were little feelings of coziness or relaxation about the area.  The streets had largely been purged of civilian presence, and smoke could be seen billowing at various points throughout the area, though Squall noted that damages to residential and commercial properties were far from extensive.  It appeared that the Dollet troops had not put up too fierce a resistance against the invaders before abandoning the city.  All was so quiet that it seemed as though the battle zone was deserted, but Squall knew that each building likely held its share of frightened civilians in hiding—or, perhaps, Galbadian troops lying in wait to surprise his squad.

            When the squad had run through several blocks on their way to the Central Square, the heavy silence pervading the streets began to be shattered from numerous directions.  Shouts and gunshots were heard not too far away, and the sounds soon grew in number and frequency.  The other squads were beginning to engage the Galbadians.  The enemies were near.  He was duly careful to keep looking sideways for hostile presence as he followed Seifer's lead.  A disturbance from left caught his attention when he was about to run past an alley, causing him to stop momentarily.  Zell had noted the same, halting as well.  

            "Is it Galbadians?" Zell inquired.  

It was.  There were five of them with their swords drawn just beyond the other end of the back street, all attired in the infamous blue-and-silver Galbadian military gear.  They were fighting against another squad of cadets.  

            Ahead, Seifer skidded to a halt, having discovered that his squad was no longer behind him.  "What the hell?" he shouted angrily, turning around.  "What are you two doing over there?"

            "Galbadians, fighting some of our people!" Zell shouted back.  "Five against three—shouldn't we help?"

            "That's _their fight!  Come on, dumbasses; the square's this way!"_

            Quickly casting a mid-level fire spell, Squall hurled the blazing sphere down the narrow alley at the distant enemy soldiers.  He only lingered long enough to observe that the flame struck the Galbadians and immediately broke into a sprint again.  "That's all we can do for them.  Let's go!"

            "God! and to think that's the captain I'm counting on to cover _my back!" Zell grumbled and started running also.  He saw a member of the other squad raise his hand in an appreciative salute.  He waved back heartily, shouting, "Hang in there, people!  __Go kick __their __asses!"_

            "I'll bust _your ass if you don't move faster, Chicken-wuss!" Seifer yelled ahead._

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Turning around a street corner, the squad encountered its first set of enemies.  The company of six Galbadian soldiers seemed not a little surprised to see the armed cadets, drawing their swords instantly.  

"What are these?  Dollet reinforcements?" one of them exclaimed.

            "Hardly," was Seifer's succinct reply as he dashed at the company.  The Galbadian that had spoken found himself pierced through the side by Seifer's gunblade.  The soldier fell with but a small groan of pain, spraying blood on the ground.  Squall was only a second behind Seifer in his own offensive.  A blast of fire arose as he struck at the second Galbadian, knocking him back ten feet.  Neither of the fallen enemies moved again.  

            "Dammit!" one of the remaining soldiers swore and aimed the gun mounted atop his battle armlet at Seifer.  He fired at close range.  A dozen rapid rounds hit the squad captain in a concentrated bundle of fiery bursts.  Seifer, appearing wholly unaffected by the shots, sneered and cut down the shooter with another deadly slash that sank into the soldier's torso.  His gunblade radiated a demonic blue glow each time it struck.

            "What in the world...?" one of the three Galbadians left standing mumbled disbelievingly as he took an involuntary step back.  

"They are using magic shields!" another cried.  A moment later he too fell when Zell, with a ferocious but controlled battle cry, buried a solid right punch between his eyes, cracking open the soldier's protective helmet.  Rotating, the cadet unleashed a bolt of thunder upon his next target.  Without a sound the fifth Galbadian collapsed like a puppet whose strings have been severed mid-act.  The last of the enemy soldiers would have run for his life but that the swift double strike of Squall's sword caught him at the thigh and the shoulder within a split second.  The first hit robbed the Galbadian of his footing on the ground.  The second knocked him unconscious.  

Scarcely a minute into the battle, all enemy soldiers were effectively neutralized.

            "Our first victims for the day!" Seifer announced, looking down triumphantly at the prone figures on the street.  He addressed Zell with a degree of satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.  "Not bad, Chicken-wuss.  And here I was wondering where you'd left your weapon.  Not much style, but it suits you just fine, really."

            Zell stepped up to Seifer and cut him a disdainful glare.  "Shut up, you egomaniac.  You didn't have to kill those two poor bastards like that!"

            "What the hell...  Hey, would you listen to this guy?" Seifer said as he looked to Squall, who stood apart also gazing down at the defeated enemies.  He turned back to zell, the hard front back on his face.  "Listen, little boy.  This is a _real battle.  People kill each other in real battles.  If you've got a problem with that you're in the wrong place."_

            Zell did not stand down.  "Take that attitude to hell with you, Seifer.  I'm not an ignoramus.  I know what a gunblade can do."

            "What the f--- are you talking about?" said Seifer with a frown.  Temper was quickly heating up his voice.  Then he took a long second look at the downed soldiers.  His eyes next focused on Squall.  Contempt and annoyance flashed in their gray depth.  "...The hell?  _You left them alive, too?"_

            Squall met the squad captain's glare, reluctant to be pulled into others' altercation but seeing little choice.  "They were weak opponents.  With their injuries, they won't be rejoining the invasion forces even if they do awake before the mission ends."

            "I don't believe this!" exclaimed Seifer, barking out a harsh laughter.  

            "The gunblade's attack is much more versatile than that of an ordinary sword.  I don't want to misuse its full strength against petty enemies."

            "Misuse!" cried Seifer.  "The only way to misuse power is _not using it when you have it!  Fine, have it your way, both of you—but I'm warning you, if you're going to give me any grief about the way I handle __my fights, you'd better be prepared to suffer one of those fights yourselves.  Move it, then.  We need to get to our station."_

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            The Galbadian invaders were now fully alerted to the presence of SeeD in Dollet, but few of them had an inkling of an idea that they were being used as testing materials for the young Balamb cadets.  Hastily the Galbadians reorganized themselves into larger parties to thwart the advances of the small enemy squads.  The twenty-five minutes that it took Squad B to reach Central Square saw five more run-in's with such bands of Galbadian troops.  Their second fight proceeded in much the same manner as before, though this time the verbal ruffle was suppressed to a minimum.  From their third fight on the cadets were, to their own surprise, cool and composed, each disabling his share of enemies with his own methods without further remarks on anyone's part.  

            Squall realized that the more enemies they fought, the more efficient they were becoming.  As the intensity of battles climbed, fewer words were spoken among the three uneasy comrades during and between fights.  Their responses to external stimuli were quickly narrowing to only those pertaining to the mission at hand.  They ran, they encountered Galbadians, and they crushed them with ruthless speed.  Squall found himself amazed at how easily and naturally the pattern of action was being established in the field.  There was something fundamentally different about battling human foes, he thought.  Though he had to his credit years of harsh training against beastly creatures, many of them far stronger than these Galbadian troops, curiously the immediacy of _danger that the monsters inspired in him had rarely been so overwhelming—or so exhilarating.  Was it simply from the pressure to pass an important exam? Squall wondered.  No, he decided.  It was all about people.  Fighting people was treacherous, somehow more insidious.  With people, one could not afford to allow a moment's opening even against weak opponents.  _

            Squall paused, sensing movement from his right.  Galbadians, three of them.  Conveniently moving in a tight formation.  They were charging in his direction, swords shining in the afternoon sun.  

            _Come forth, Shiva— _

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "The Central Square is up ahead," Seifer said.  

The end of the main street was visible now.  The Squad B members hastened their feet.  Soon they were at the circular public plaza whence the major boulevards of Dollet radiated.  

            "Here we are!  This is our post!" Zell said upon reaching the memorial fountain that was the centerpiece of the square.  Promptly a Galbadian foot soldier sprang from behind the fountain, his machine gun aimed, point-blank, at the cadet.  Taken by surprise, Zell blocked the Galbadian's fires.  He was nevertheless knocked onto the ground from the blows.  He scrambled to raise himself up and saw his attacker being flung backwards by a thunder blast.

            "That's what you get for being inattentive, fool," Seifer scoffed, walking up.  He kicked the fallen Galbadian in the side and verified that he was no longer a threat.  Zell stood up with a quick expletive, nettled to have been aided by the older student.

            Seifer motioned to the square with a sweep of his gunblade.  "All right, let's secure the area.  You two, scout the vicinity for any hostiles.  I want this place wiped clean of small nuisances before the big catch arrives."

            Squall and Zell were about to execute the order when they did a double take in tandem at the sudden flurry of activity from the eastern avenue.  Five Galbadians had run out of a building at the commotion, and three more were not far behind them.  

            "I don't think we need to scout them out.  Here they come!" Zell shouted.  

A pair of nearly simultaneous bangs erupted from both sides.  The first came from a Galbadian heavy rifle, and the second from Seifer's outstretched left hand.  The shot claimed a bystanding victim in the memorial fountain's marble statue, whose arm was blown off.  In contrast Seifer's fire attack found its target with lethal accuracy, smiting an enemy front liner.  

"Scatter—they're magic users!" one of the approaching soldiers cried.  The troops immediately dispersed.

            "They've already got the sentinel!" observed a Galbadian troop upon reaching the square.             

"And I'm about to get you, too!" Zell declared.  He leapt in front of the oncoming enemy.  His right foot drew a smooth upward arc in the air, and in a flash the Galbadian found his hands bereft of the gun he had been about to fire.  Zell's next kick crashed through the enemy's armor vest.

            Squall engaged the two soldiers on his both sides.  He knew well that men relying on their number to overwhelm a lone opponent tended to leave their defense fatally open at the individual level.  While the two Galbadians were attempting to coordinate their sword attacks to trap him, Squall easily turned the situation to his advantage with a fast stab at one of them followed by a rotating strike at the other.  The two soldiers crumpled within seconds of each other.  

Turning, Squall witnessed another enemy fall under Seifer's gunblade at a far corner of the square.  Zell was already readying himself to face the next set of Galbadians.  Squall reviewed the two men on the ground that he had just defeated.  A deep frown creased his scarred brow as he saw the rapidly spreading red stain at the shoulder of a fallen Galbadian.  _I thought I only hit him with the energy strike without actually stabbing him?...  I suppose I misjudged my own attack.  But, damn it, how could I know to do any differently?  I've only fought seriously against beasts, not human beings.  And now I'm hacking through these fools like they are animals._

            "Three more to go," Seifer said.

            The enemy troops who shortly reached the square appeared flummoxed at the vision of their beaten comrades.  They had expected to face half-decimated adversaries by the time of their arrival.  "They're _kids.  What's going on?" one of them said in amazement._

            "Don't underestimate them.  They're SeeD!" another replied, taking battle position.

            "Not quite yet—not that it makes a difference for you," Seifer said.  Then he charged at the soldiers.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "I think that's all of them," Squall said.

            "Well, then, we're on standby till the next wave of Galbadians move in from the mountains."  Seifer jabbed his gunblade at the street pavement.  "Standby... I hate this part of a mission."

            "If we are going to wait here for enemy troops, we should move these to somewhere inconspicuous."  Squall pointed to the motionless soldiers sprawled about the square.  "Their sight is sure to alert other Galbadians who come this way." 

            "Hmm, you're right."  Seifer considered for a second.  His lips curled in a wicked grin.  "We could torch them to ashes with strong fire magic."

            Zell stared at Seifer like he was insane.  Squall disregarded the tasteless remark.  

"I was thinking more along the line of hiding them in that hotel over at that corner."

            "Fine, fine...  But I'm not stooping down to that kind of menial labor.  You two take care of it."

            As they were moving the soldiers into the deserted hotel, Zell asked Squall under his breath, "Was that his idea of a joke, that bit about burning these guys?"

            "You told me yourself—pay no attention to him."

            They completed the grim work of depositing the Galbadians in the hotel lobby.  When they had laid down the last of the bodies, Squall said to Zell, "You go on ahead and look out for enemy movement with Seifer.  I'm going to disarm these men.  Otherwise other enemy soldiers may get their hands on their ammunition."

            "All right."

            Zell walked out of the hotel.  Squall stepped up to the somber lineup of men lying down on the lobby floor and examined them closely.  A good number of them were still breathing—especially the ones lucky enough to have avoided Seifer's sword in the fight.  Going from one soldier to the next, Squall cast a minor cure spell on each unconscious survivor.  He then took magazine clips and ammunition belts from the men and threw them into a large wastebasket under the receptionist's desk.  He exited the lobby with the container in his arms.

            "Everything well?" Zell asked when Squall came out to rejoin the squad.

            "Yes," he answered, dumping the contents of the wastebasket into the water beneath the shattered statue for a good soaking.

Reviews are what I write this thing for.  Tell me what you think, please.  -PeterEliot


	12. Change of Plan

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates 

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**12. Change of Plan**

            "What time have you got?"

            I take a glance at my Garden-issue timepiece.  "A quarter after 18:00.  Don't you have your watch with you?"

            Zell looks sheepish.  "Well... I'm not really used to wearing it.  I use my fists a lot in action, and the wristwatches I wear kinda have a way of getting smashed up every other week."  

            "You are still required to wear one to a field mission."

            He scratches the back of his head.  "I know.  I forgot to put it on before I left dorm today.  Hope no one finds out; it could mean point deduction in my..."

            Suddenly there is a dull, booming roar like a distant thunder, and Zell stops mid-sentence.  I concentrate to determine which way the sound came from.  Soon there is more noise— the noise of shots and blasts, all blurred and remote.  The blare descends from the steep rocky mountains towering in distance over the skyline of Central Square. 

            "Sounds like it's starting," I say.

            "Bring it on..." I hear Seifer a few yards away.  Loitering to his right is a stray yellow dog that has been keeping the vigil with us for the past twenty minutes or so.  The animal seems to miss the presence of people in the evacuated district.  Though Seifer already tried to chase it away a couple of times, the dog has been insistent on staying close to us since we secured our post.

            The dog is attempting to approach Seifer again, wagging its tail.  I suppose it doesn't have much of a brain.  Or maybe it's just the recklessly adventurous type.  Sort of like the guy it's bugging.  Kindred spirits recognize one another, I suppose.

            "Get out of here!" Seifer snarls at the dog for the third time.  "Scram!" with a brandish of his gunblade.  The dog jumps back with an alarmed whimper, but it doesn't go away far.  His thinning temper aggravated by the unwanted canine attention, Seifer is beginning to look impatient in earnest.  He faces the mountains and shouts, "Hey, you Galbadians out there!  What are you waiting for?  Come show me what you've got!"

            "And he called _me_ inattentive," Zell mutters behind me.  "...What an idiot."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "....Nothing," I say.  

It has been a full half-hour since the faraway battle was heard, and still we and the dog are the only moving things in the square.  I check to see how Seifer and Zell are doing.  Their faces are strained—neither is very good at waiting, it seems.  Zell walks to and fro with heavy steps while Seifer, leaning on his side against a building on the street, morosely taps himself on the shoulder with the back of his sword.

            Zell is the first to blow off steam.  "What the HELL!" he cries abruptly, hurling a downward punch at the ground.  "God... _forget_ boring—this isn't right!  What's going on?  Why aren't we seeing something?"

            Seifer dismisses Zell's outburst with uncharacteristic cool.  Resuming tapping his shoulder, he mumbles half to himself, "Still keeping us waiting...?"  

He looks down at his feet.  The dog has sneaked upon him again, and it is rubbing its neck against his ankles.  Seifer explodes.  "THAT DOES IT!  I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!  WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM—A FRIGGIN' PUPPY TRAINER?"  

            This time he resolutely goes after the dog, gunblade raised.  The dog runs away once again to the far corner of the square.  Turning east, the dog barks quickly, twice—then releases a long howl at the evening sky.  I start, and call out to the squad captain, who is about to add a house pet to his list of victims for the day, in a hiss: "_Seifer!_"

            He sees me motioning to him to get back.  Promptly he returns, and the three of us get low behind the corner of a nearby building.  Soon a Galbadian soldier appears from the direction that the dog had been barking at.  Taking a quick look around the square, he gestures behind him with his hand.  More Galbadians then move into the square in a single file.  They are not coming from the mountain ahead; they are running toward it.  Looking visibly cautious, they run quietly across the square and exit through the northwestern street.  There are less of them than I had expected—six.

            "They're by themselves.  Let's surprise them."  Zell gets up to spring forward.

            Seifer stops him.  "No, wait.  Something's fishy.  Where the hell are they going?"

            I observe the enemy's route and trace it ahead with my eyes.  They are headed for the bridge, about a mile or so ahead, that will take them to the base of one of the two sets of mountains that surround Dollet.  Following the road that can be seen just beyond the bridge, my eyes climb the mountains all the way up to...

            "What is that up there?" asks Zell.

            "Some kind of a tower...?"  Seifer squints at the rather flat peak of the mountains.  "That has to be where they're headed.  The bridge is the city limit; there's little beyond the bridge but that facility."

            "How can you be so sure?"  Zell looks doubtful.

            "We'll soon find out if I'm right."

            "What are you...?"  Zell pauses in the middle of the question, understanding dawning.  "Wait a moment.  You mean to go up there?  You mean _us_ to go up there, after them?"  He reads confirmation in Seifer's non-response.  "But that's against the orders!" he exclaims.

            "What's the matter?  Weren't you saying how bored you were just now?"

            Zell fixes Seifer with a disbelieving gaze.  Then he turns to _me_ with an appeal.  "Squall!  Will you talk some sense into this guy?"

            Seifer's expression wordlessly dares me to challenge him.  I contemplate for a minute, then say: "Seifer is the squad captain.  I will defer tactical decisions to the captain."

            Seifer's eyebrows lift at my reply; he has not expected it.  "'Defer to the captain?'" he echoes, and a wry smile twists his mouth.  He steps up to me and places a fisted forearm on my shoulder, saying, "That's right...  You are just dying to wreak some serious havoc yourself, aren't you?"

            I shake him off, repugnance no doubt staining my face.  "As I said, you are the captain.  Your duty is to lead, ours to follow.  If you're willing to take responsibility before the Garden for the orders you give, I will obey your orders.  It's a good opportunity to test out my training.  Thanks to your daily harassment I feel like I can take on anyone... even if they do fight less than honorably, the way you do."

            Seifer snorts.  "Believe this, Squall: when the time comes, you will thank me.  For what, I will leave to you to decide then."

            "If you two are done with this weird soldierly camaraderie thing— and good God, _are_ you two weird," Zell speaks.  "Listen.  This ain't no simple battle.  It's an exam, and a damn important one.  I'm telling you, we _have_ to stick to our orders."

            "Fine, you stay here then.  I've got no use for a boy scout in my squad."

            "What was that?" Zell screams at Seifer, and his clenched right fist automatically rises as it has done so many times today.  God, I'm getting sick of this.

            "Zell, do yourself a favor and don't take his taunting seriously—just his orders.  And Seifer, if we're gonna go, we'd better hurry after the enemy."

            "Good, then.  The enemy is headed for the facility at the northern summit.  We, Squad B, are to secure the summit.  Those who are up to the task," and he adds derisive emphasis to these words, "will follow me to our next destination."

            The squad moves out, Seifer at the lead.  Zell is the last to take to his feet, and his disapproving murmur trails behind me.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            A good mile of uninterrupted run brings us out of the downtown and to the bridge, where the low but impressively precipitous mountain rises beyond the considerable span of the bridge.  I note that halfway down the bridge are the tiny figures of four Galbadian soldiers.  They appear to be keeping a post on the bridge.  Probably watchmen.  They are too far away for me to note their faces.  But if they haven't seen us already, they are about to.  

            "Don't slow down.  Just crash through," Seifer says.

            We run onto the bridge toward the mountain path.  Barely visible to either side of the bridge is the ominously murky water below.  The low fog beneath the structure makes it difficult to fathom how far down the water lies.  But I imagine the bridge is quite tall—Dollet's foundation is not perfectly horizontal but elevates by step-like degrees as it pushes deeper into the mountainous inland.

            The Galbadians have spotted us, and they are firing.  At this distance their rounds are causes for little concern against our protective spells.  Still, they might have heavier weaponry in their arsenal, and on the narrow but unobstructed bridge we are ideal targets.  We are not equipped for this type of protracted frontal assault.  We need to close the distance and engage in dogfight before they resort to explosives.

            Seifer has apparently thought of the same.  "At my signal, commence fire attack at maximum power and keep firing.  Don't worry about range or aim.  Ready, fire!"

            Not slowing our pace, the three of us instantly turn the path directly ahead into an inferno of flame and smoke.  The blaze swallows up an entire segment of the bridge, blinding the enemy and us alike to the sight of the other.  We charge into that blaze, and all the while we continue to ignite whatever lies before us.  When we emerge from the storm of fire, the enemy soldiers are mere ten yards away.  I leap at the nearest Galbadian, ready to strike.  The enemy releases a thunderbolt in my direction as he jumps back to dodge.  It only inflicts a dull shock, and I make a quick work of the opponent.  

            When all four Galbadians have been dealt with, I address the squad.  "One of the enemies used thunder magic," I inform them.

            Zell nods.  "Yeah, another guy I fought tried to fry me, too.  Wasn't much more than a sting, though."

            "It's the first time we've fought magic users today," I say.  "These soldiers were better fighters than the ones we encountered in the city.  They were clearly guarding the bridge."

            Seifer studies the downed Galbadians.  "These aren't the soldiers we saw at the Central Square, either.  This is getting interesting.  The Galbadians must be up to something up there.  Enough talk. Let's move out!"

            We cross the bridge without further entanglements.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            It seems Seifer was right in at least one thing: there apparently isn't much beyond the bridge except for the shadowy facility at the summit.  There is but one path up the mountain, a rude and extremely steep staircase that spirals around the cliffs all the way to the peak.

            As we run up the steps, Zell calls for the squad's attention.  

            "Hey, look!"

            Seifer and I turn back to him.  "What is it, Dincht?" Seifer asks.  He hasn't called the guy by his given name once today, and more often than not he hasn't called him by his name at all.

            "I think I see someone..."  Zell runs back towards the edge of the steps we just passed.  I draw my gunblade, and Seifer does the same.  But soon I realize that Zell has not meant an enemy by his words.  Probing through the bushes outlining the rocky staircase, Zell helps a badly wounded Dollet troop in dark green gear out of them.

            "Who... who are you?" he asks us in a shaky, hoarse voice.  Blood drips down the side of face, and the rest of his body isn't faring much better.

            "Easy, sir.  Let us help you first," Zell tells him.  I look about for enemies while Zell treats the soldier with restorative magic.  Once the bleeding is brought under control, Seifer hands the soldier a flask of water to drink.

            "We're with SeeD members dispatched to assist your people.  What can you tell us?  What's going on up there?" Seifer asks as soon as the soldier is done drinking.

            "The Galbadians have occupied the old Communication Tower at the summit," he replies, his voice more articulate now.  "I have no idea what business they have with that place; it's been closed down for years.  Few people hardly go near that place anymore.  If you men are headed there, be on your guard.  Recently it has become a choice haven for large monsters looking for nests."

            "Monsters, huh..." I say to myself.

            "Well, that's just great, on top of all the Galbadians," groans Zell.

            "More fun for us.  Come on."  Seifer turns to the Dollet soldier on the ground.  "Keep the flask and hide yourself.  We can't do more for you right now."

            "Fine.  Please be careful..."

            We leave the soldier and continue our ascent.  On the way we run across a few more Dollet troops, but we do not stop to talk to them— they are dead.

Reviews are appreciated.  You may also ask any questions in reviews.

-PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)


	13. Their True Intent

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates 

**By PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**13.  Their True Intent**

            The lofty figure of the Communication Tower pushing up to the darkening heaven was the dominant feature in their sight long before they reached the summit where it stood.  A steep bluff rose facing the tower's lone entrance and provided the cadets with a convenient high vantage point from which to observe it.  The three flattened themselves upon the hilltop and spied the facility.  Two Galbadian soldiers guarded the entrance.

            "How are we gonna break in?  We're breaking in, right?" Zell asked under his breath.

            "Quiet, Dincht."

            The door opened, and another soldier appeared and addressed the guards.  From thirty yards away, his words were only vaguely intelligible in places.   

            "...The generator up and running... ...boosters operational..."

            "...What are they saying?" Zell whispered.

            "_Shut up,_" Seifer hissed.

            "Cable disconnection... confirmed... ...final phase imminent... ...need some hands."

            The guards then followed the third Galbadian into the tower, leaving the entrance unguarded.

            "Repairs...?" Squall said, getting up from the ground.

            "Sure seems that way.  But what does it matter, really?"  Seifer too got back on his feet.  He motioned to the tower beyond the cliff.  "Perfect.  The entrance lies open.  We will proceed to recover this post from the Galbadians."

            The squad captain threw Squall a sideway glance.  "So, Squall, how's it like so far, fighting real battles?  Your nerve still holding together?"

            Squall thought for a moment, then answered honestly.  "I don't know.  I try not to let my thoughts wander in that direction."

            "That so?  With me it's different.  For me battles are so exciting that they leave no room for fear—only for boredom sometimes, when they get tepid.  An exam like this is all but a joke."

            Keep going off on your own like this and these jokes of battles will be the only ones you ever fight, Squall mused.  He made no reply.

            "I relish battles," Seifer continued.  "With each victory I feel a step closer to attaining my dream."

            Squall started somewhat.  "...Your dream_?_" Squall echoed, squinting.

            "Something wrong with that?  You've got one yourself, I'm sure?"  

            There was an unwonted look of earnestness on Seifer's face.  The conversation—when had this become a conversation? Squall wondered—was taking on a _very_ weird quality.  Since when had Seifer Almasy engaged in this sort of discussion?  Regardless, this was not a topic Squall cared to broach with others, most of all with Seifer.

            "Sorry, but I'll pass on that subject."

            Seifer snorted at that.

            Zell regarded his comrades with a baffled look of his own.  "Geez, I knew you guys were always at each other's throat, but nobody told me you two _bickered_, too.  What's the deal with you?"

            "Buzz off, Dincht."  Seifer started on the path that wound down the bluff to the tower.

            This was one brush-off too many for Zell.  

            "Friggin' hell..." he swore.  His face reddened with alarming speed.  He took a step toward Seifer, both fists raised, and Squall wondered if his temper had finally hit the limit.  Zell, however, held himself at stabbing a couple of sharp feints that fell far behind Seifer's departing figure.

            "Swatting flies, Zell?"Seifer jeered without looking back.  He continued his way down alone.

            "Damn you...!" Zell snarled, delivering an angry kick to a more substantial target—the earth.  "What the hell am I doing here...?  I'm about to participate in an attack against a hostile post against Garden's orders because of that.... that psycho punk of a squad leader?"

            "A bit late for that.  Come on, let's go," Squall said to Zell, who stood staring despairingly at the ground.

            "_There_ you are!"

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            As one, Squall and Zell looked at each other and around themselves.

            "What... what was that?  Who was that?" Zell sputtered, quickly assuming combat stance.

            "Up here!  Wait a second—don't go!" came the voice again, from above.  

            Squall lifted his eyes and saw a girl standing precariously atop the protrusion of tall boulders behind them, her petite figure silhouetted against the orange sky.  She was a cadet.  For a moment he thought her wildly flailing arms were a gesture to call their attention.  He was corrected in his supposition when the girl, having lost her footing in her hasty descent, toppled over and crashed by the boys' feet.  

            Again as one, Squall and Zell jumped back to avoid collision.  Then at the sight of the girl wincing in pain on the ground, they blinked at each other in an awkward mutual realization.  Neither had thought to _catch_ the girl.

            The newcomer groaned and rubbed her knees, but it only took her a second to recover.  From the ground she flashed an embarrassed but cheery smile, and her tongue stuck out with a wink.  

            "Finally found you..." she muttered as she arose.  Back on her feet, the cadet moved to greet the Squad B members, and then stopped mid-salute.  Her eyes widened in recognition.  Squall too saw who the girl was.

            "Heeey... aren't you that guy who showed me around today?" cried the transfer student.  Her face split in a giant grin.  "You are!  Hey, thanks again!  I don't seem to get lost much anymore.  I even showed up on time for the field exam, see?"

            Zell made a queer face at Squall.  "_You_ showed her around the campus?" he asked, his tone laced with doubt.  And suspicion.  Squall closed his eyes and let out a quick sigh.

            "Come to think of it, I never even told you my name earlier," the newcomer went on.  "I'm Selphie, Selphie Tilmitt, from Squad A.  You're Squall, and Zell, right?"

            Squall nodded.  "That's right.  What's this about?"

            "I have a message to deliver to your squad captain.  Where is he?"

            Squall looked to the way Seifer had just left.  _Where did he so quickly disappear to... ah, there he goes._  He had already reached the bottom of the bluff and was running toward the tower's entrance.  Squall pointed to the figure down below just as Seifer stopped to see his squad still up the cliff.  

            "What're you doing still up there?  Get down here fast!" he yelled, disregarding enemies who might hear him.

            "Wait, Seifer—" Squall began, but with a dull swish of the automatic door the captain had already disappeared into the tower.

            Selphie sighed.  "Gosh, this sure is tougher than training courses.  Guess you guys got some kind of change of orders, huh?"

            "If only it were so..." Zell grumbled gloomily.

            "Squad captain, wait up!" Selphie shouted with matching disregard for enemies' ears.  Then, to the astonishment of the male cadets, she proceeded to leap off the edge of the cliff.

            "Hey!  What are you..."  

            Before Zell had the time to finish his sentence, Selphie had landed on the ground below like a bird terminating a flight.  She waved to the boys above.

            "Come on, guys!  We gotta go after the captain together!  The message is for all of you!"

            Zell gawked in disbelief at the tiny figure below.  "Good Lord... what _is_ she?"

            "Not impossible to do with support magic—though certainly inadvisable," Squall observed.  He started running down the path Seifer had taken.  Zell followed behind.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Selphie was waiting for them at the entrance.  She watched their approach with a disapproving pout.  

            "Geez, people, we're in hurry here!  Why didn't you just jump after me?"

            Zell shot the girl an exasperated glare.  "Look, there are several ways for sane people to climb down a cliff, and diving ain't one of them, okay?  Isn't that right, Squall?"

            Squall coolly regarded both his quick-tempered companions, resisting the temptation to dwell on his luck for the day.  "...I don't know, Zell.  Perhaps anyone but a chicken-wuss can manage it."

            "What... what did you sayyyyy?" Zell screeched, stung.

            Selphie smirked knowingly at Zell.  "...Hmm?  Since you're so offended, I guess you're the Chicken-wuss?  Kinda makes sense, now that I take a good look at you."

            "What the...  Why is everyone...?  I am not a CHICKEN!"  

            The climbing pitch of Zell's dismayed protest was downright squeaky.  Selphie half-mockingly covered her ears, cringing.  

            "Hey, keep the decibel down when you are talking right next to other people, will you?  Sheesh, you sound just like a certain house fowl when you squawk like that..."

            "Watch where you tread, girl."  His voice was low and dangerous.

            "All right, all right, if the stupid name bothers you so...  So then, if you think chicken is too dingy a nickname, how about something like Chocobo-man?  Or Choco-dude, maybe?  Now, a chicken certainly better fits your... image, but a chocobo is definitely way more stately a bird than..."

            "A CHICKEN, A CHOCOBO, WHATEVER!  DO AS YOU DAMN PLEASE AND LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, OKAY?"

            The pitch had shot back up.  Squall figured this was enough.  "Don't take it so personally, Zell," he said, sorry to have catalyzed the whole exchange.  _How many times have I said something like this to this guy in two hours?_

            "Guys, we really do need to get to your captain," Selphie said, though her eyes were laughing merrily.  "Come on!"  

            She moved toward the automatic door, eyes still on her companions.  When the door slid open she did not see the two Galbadian soldiers who rushed out of the tower.

            "Watch out!" Zell cried.  

            Startled, Selphie swiveled to find herself nearly face to face with the oncoming enemies.

            "Oh, _shit!_" one of the Galbadians cried.  Scarcely a blink of an eye later Squall's fire spell exploded with a piercing boom at extreme proximity, enclosing the doorway in smoke.

            When the smoke dispersed somewhat, Selphie emerged coughing into her hands.  

            "Oh, heck! cough  For a second there I thought you were gonna blow me away with them!"

            "Sorry," said Squall.  "They were right behind you.  I had to act fast."

            "No need to apologize... and thanks for the cover.  You know something, though?"  Selphie studied the unconscious Galbadians.  "I don't think these two were about attack us."

            Zell expressed his agreement.  "Yeah, they were surprised to see us."

            Squall stepped into the dimly lit interior of the tower and swept it with his gaze.  "It's Seifer.  They were running from him," he said.

            Selphie followed him into the tower with Zell.  "How do you know that...  Oh, shoot, this isn't good," she muttered upon witnessing what Squall had seen.  A number of Galbadians were prostrate on the floor, all of them motionless.  "What...  Isn't this an enemy station?  The Galbadians occupied the place?"

            "Afraid so," Zell replied.  

            Incredulity was written across Selphie's questioning countenance.  "I'm sorry, but what were you guys about to do—carry out an assault on this place, just the three of you?"

            "Hey, don't look at us," said Zell defensively.  "It was that crazy Seifer's idea!  He is the squad captain, you know."

            "Oh, man, this is so _not_ good," Selphie groaned.  She took a quick look at her wristwatch.  "God only knows how many more enemies are lurking in this huge building.  Listen, we need to hurry and find the captain fast.  We don't have much time."

            "What do you mean?" asked Squall.  But he thought he could guess the reason.

            "No time to explain.  Let's move it!"  

            Selphie ran ahead.  

            "Damn, am I getting sick of bossy people.  First Seifer, and now little Miss Shorty..." said Zell.  He ran after the girl with Squall.

            A collosal cylindrical column rose from the center of the circular floor all the way to the dark, nearly invisible ceiling, spanning the tower's height like a backbone.  Twin circuits for open elevator lifts traversed the length of the column.  Only one of the lifts, a crude horizontal slab of steel without so much as safety rails, was at the ground level.  

            Selphie took a quick look around the lift.  "I don't see any other way up the tower... I guess he took the other lift up.  We'll follow him."

            The cadets stepped onto the remaining lift.  

            "You know how to operate this thing?" Zell asked the girl, who stooped over the control board.

            "You mean do I know how to push this button here that says 'UP'?  I dare say that I do."

In another moment the lift began its ascension with a low electric buzz.  

            "This lift is so cool... it's got no _walls_," Selphie chuckled in glee, gazing down at the rapidly diminishing floor beneath.

            Zell clucked his tongue.  "Hey, don't be careless and go falling off.  No more jump stunts for the day, please."

            "Uh, excuse me, Mr. Chicken-wuss, sir—but I'm trying to go up this time, not down."

            "For the second time—watch it."

            "Both of you, shut up and look out for Galbadians," Squall snapped at last.  To his surprise, they complied.

I write for your reviews.  Seriously, I do.  Tell me what you think of this chapter.

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)


	14. Transformation and Reverberation

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates 

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**14.  Transformation and Reverberation**

            The major swore as the metal nut fell with a tiny _clang_ into one of many cavities inside the main control unit for the fourth time.  When he had gotten his engineering degree, he had hoped it would provide a much-needed boost for his career.  Instead, he got ordered to play handyman with this 200-foot-tall piece of steel junk so ancient it was more a relic than a machine.  The good-for-nothing idiots of recon specialists had reported prior to the invasion that twenty-four hours of repair effort would suffice to render the tower operational again.  The morons had grossly misjudged the iron resolve of the half-century-old ensemble of unusable crap to remain in that sorry state.  Here they were, full three days after the invasion, and still grappling with this paraphernalia of rusty scraps and two decades' accumulation of oily grime.  They had had to refurnish a practically whole new set of parts to resuscitate the hulking monument to obsolescence.

            And just what the hell am _I_ doing here? the major grumpily thought.  He hadn't even been properly assigned to this sorry operation to begin with.  They just called him off the front line and dumped the job on his shoulders when they got shorthanded.  What honorable consideration—like I am some bloody mechanic, he grouched.  When it all ended, they would probably shove some lousy second-rate commendation into his hands and forget once again that he existed.  That is, until the next time hands were needed for some other seedy duty.  Even as he continued to reestablish the circuits that had disintegrated through years of disuse, the major found himself dreaming of all the different ways he could demolish the whole damned tower to a pile of rubble...   

            "Major Biggs, sir!" a familiar voice called from behind.

            "What?" the crouching major snarled, looking back.

            "Another shadow in the shape of a large flying creature was sighted over the tower.  I have dispatched two privates to investigate and if necessary to eliminate the creature."

            "Yeah, yeah, whatever..."  

The major turned back to the tall machine that stood with its front panel torn off like a patient cut open for a surgery.  More like a rotting corpse on an autopsy table, the major darkly fancied.  

"I'm almost done here.  I just need to complete a few more circuits, but we're much too far behind schedule.  If the idiots down below are still not done clearing the track, get extra hands to finish the job immediately even if it means diverting the guards.  I want to proceed the moment this control unit is operational, understood?"

            "Yes, sir!  And also... the robot's automatic control system continues to be jammed at irregular intervals, sir."

            "Ah, to hell with it.  The unfamiliar signal of the tower must be interfering with its A.I. piloting frequency.  The signal activity has been on and off for the past few minutes, thanks to bad connections.  Once the robot's computer adapts to the new radio environment, it'll all level off."

            "However, sir, Black Widow _is _our primary defense unit, and especially without the guards..."

            "To _hell_ with it!  The SeeD is occupied in the other mountains, anyway.  Just make sure that monster of yours pose no problem."

            "Then, sir, I shall relay your order and commence with another patrol around the tower."  

The soldier saluted the major and departed.

            "Yeah, yeah...  Damn it, what is up with these crappy old parts?  Hadn't these Dollet dummies ever heard of electric screwdrivers twenty years ago?"

            Major Biggs was further occupied with the troublesome circuits for fifteen minutes.  Finally he succeeded; after an inordinate amount of manual fumbling, all the tab A's clicked into the tab B's, and the flickering lights dappling the machine's core strengthened with a low, smooth _whirr_.  The major stood back and gazed proudly at his work just as the soft wheeze of the lift behind him announced the return of his subordinate.  He motioned grandly at his accomplishment for the junior officer to note.

            "Wahahaha... look at that, Wedge!  How about that?  I've got the thing going at last!  Genius—sheer genius!" Biggs bragged in delight, sparing only the quickest of glances at the younger man before he returned to admiring his handiwork.  He then froze on the spot.  

That had _not_ been Wedge on the elevator.  Or any of his men.  

            He spun to behold three strangers in dark uniforms who stood staring wordlessly back at him.  The major was further surprised to realize that the strangers all appeared to be well under twenty.  And one of them was a girl.  _Are they SeeD?  But what kind of gear is that?_

            "Wha..." Biggs' stuttering exclamation broke the brief standoff.  "He-hey!  Who the hell are you?"

            And then all's attention was taken by an abrupt disturbance from below that shook the entire tower.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    * 

            Somewhere at the heart of the old structure, wheels and engines that had sat unused for nearly twenty years began to turn and glow.  An interlacing network of unmanned parts, only recently scrubbed clean of cobwebs and thick dust, quivered back to life to engage in an intricate routine long interrupted.  The placid air inside the tower suddenly vibrated with tension as a myriad of mechanical hums echoed throughout the place. 

            Squall watched as a spanner lying on the perforated floor fell through from the tremor, his eyes following the tool's deceptively leisurely descent toward the jagged terrain hundreds of feet below.  The circular platform on which the cadets stood was directly underneath the summit of the tower.  It was an open platform without walls or rails, much like the crude elevator that had brought them there, exposing them to the strong chilly breeze that bespoke the high altitude.  All around them was the panoramic vision of Dollet's golden sky, its size magnified to daunting scale by the complete absence of terrain features that would restrict it.  The earth was a long way down, and from their height the cadets could even see, in the distance, the shore where they had landed as well as the ocean beyond.  

            "What's going on?" Selphie inquired nervously when the tower's shudder subsided.

            Squall redirected his attention at the Galbadian officer—who, he noted, had gotten on all four the instant the tower started to shake—but a tremendous dash of something massive behind him caused him to swing around in alarm.  When he did so, Squall discovered to his amazement that Communication Tower had grown substantially _taller_ than he remembered it.  At the very top of the tower above the center of the platform was an enormous cylindrical column that had not been there moments before.  It must have extended from underneath, Squall thought.

            As the cadets and the Galbadian major watched, the column pushed up higher, capping the tower with a good twenty-five feet of added height.  It then tilted towards inland at a steep angle, and immediately it split open at the root in three equal parts, momentarily resembling a three-winged windmill.  In another second the gaps between the three radiating frames were rapidly filled by silvery metallic planes that spread like a folding fan.  The resulting circular plate then promptly proceeded to curve at the edge and hollow itself into the shape of a bowl.  

            Merely a minute after the initiation of the procedure, a great parabola gleamed atop Communication Tower under the nearly translucent full moon of the evening sky.   

            An antenna.  That explains the name of the tower, Squall thought.

            "Hey, you," Zell yelled at the Galbadian.  "What the hell is this?  What have you done?"

            The soldier, still on his knees, snapped up at the coarse query and sprang to his feet.  Angry embarrassment colored his voice as well as what was visible of his face under the helmet.  "You are asking me, little brat?  What do you three _juveniles_ think you are doing up here?  You will all be arreste..."  

            Biggs stopped halfway along his sentence as a thought dawned upon him.  Where _were_ his men?  

            "He-Hey!  What happened to all the..."

            He stopped again, another thought occurring to him.  No.  No way.  These kids couldn't have taken them all out, could they?

            "Wedge!  Wedge!  Take care of these little twerps!" Biggs yelled.  

His order was met with cold human silence amidst the noise of high winds mixed with the electric thrum of the revived tower.  

"....Wedge?  Wedge?" Biggs called out again in a smaller voice, looking about for the hint of the soldier's presence.  

            Squall regarded the strange officer expressionlessly.  

            Selphie tilted her head at him, her face mutely asking, "Well?"  

            Zell started to crack his knuckles.

            "Well, uh..." stammered Biggs.  "Ah... I seem to be done here.  So I'll just be on my way now..."  

            Clutching his machine gun defensively to his chest, the major started stepping sideway around the cadets toward the lift.  The trio observed the Galbadian officer's crab imitation curiously, uncertain as to how to handle this bumbling enemy.  

The matter was then quickly taken out of their hands.

            "Leaving so soon?" came the jeering voice of a newcomer, startling Biggs and the cadets.  A quick swish followed, and Biggs' machine gun was flung high into the sky and lost from sight.  

            Seifer pointed his gunblade at the soldier's neck.  "You heard the chicken-head over there.  What are you up to, hm?"

            "Are... Are you brats out of your minds!" Biggs cried, taking a step back, agape at the sudden entrance of yet another badly misplaced teenager.  A malicious smile appeared at Seifer's lips and he moved forward, the tip of his sword still menacing the soldier's throat.  Biggs cast a nervous look behind while he was driven toward the edge of the platform.

            "If you are in a hurry to get downstairs, that's fine with me," said Seifer with exaggerated courtesy.  "But _how_ you go down will be decided by your answer to my question."

            Squall felt a tug at his left arm and turned to find a slightly worried Selphie.  

"Is he serious?  Is he gonna push the guy over if he doesn't cooperate?" she asked him in a low whisper.            

"_Ahh... ahhhhhhh!_"

            Selphie, her anxious eyes still on Squall who provided no reply, jumped at the shriek that rang out without warning.  _Oh, my God, he pushed him over—_  

            But when she shifted her horrified gaze back to Seifer, fully expecting to see him standing alone where he'd had the Galbadian cornered shortly before, she saw both Seifer and the enemy holding their spots.  And they looked just as surprised by the scream as she was.  

            "He-Help!"

            Everyone looked up at the source of the cry.  The next moment, the body of a Galbadian soldier rolled off the edge of the very antenna above them, dropping onto the floor with a thud and a yelp.

            "_Wedge!_" exclaimed Biggs in shock that at once turned into anger.  "Wedge!  Where the hell were you!  Remind me to write you up for a pay cut this month!  Hurry up and deal with these brats!"

            Wedge, who remained flat on the floor during his superior's rant, raised his head weakly and moaned, "...Sir... the monster...!"

            "Monster?" Zell repeated.

            "Hey, look out!" Selphie shouted, pointing to the antenna whence the soldier had fallen. 

            A pair of gargantuan wings could be seen flapping slowly beyond the arc of the parabola.  Soon the rest of the wings' owner appeared, rising and casting its shadow over the tower.  

            Squall thought it looked like an oversized vampire bat, or perhaps a _very_ oversized hornet.  Whichever the resemblance, the beast's next move demonstrated to all's understanding that it was unfriendly—and in an exceptionally foul mood.  Surveying its list of preys quickly, the creature lunged for the target of its choice that mystified all who watched from below: the parabolic antenna.  The clash shook the platform, and a metallic groan issued from the parabola.

            "What in the world?" cried Biggs, amazed.  "Wedge!  Explain what's going on!"

            "S, sir!  The monster evidently deems the antenna to be an intruder.  This tower harbors its nest, sir!" Wedge replied as he stood on shaky legs.

            "God damn the stupid animal!  Don't just stand there, idiot—drive it away!"  

And, so saying, the major began to fire his gauntlet gun at the creature that was now clawing viciously at the parabola.  Wedge pulled out his side pistol and followed suit.

            "What are you two doing?  You'll make it come after us—" 

            Selphie's warning was fruitless.  Hit in the back, the Bat turned and issued an infuriated growl, taking in the sight of the small figures below.  The snarling then intensified into a violent, rumbling _hiss_ that drew itself out ominously.  The creature's chest expanded in an unsightly mimicry of a rubber balloon.  It was inhaling air.  Squall jolted involuntarily; he saw what was about to happen.

            "All of you, get low and hold onto something!  It's gonna blow us away!"

            It was Seifer who had yelled those words to the cadets.  Squall hit the floor—and pulled Selphie and Zell down with him.  A second later, a gale of explosive force descended upon them.

            "Oh, shi-it!" Biggs screamed as he felt his feet being lifted off.  The two soldiers were swept up as easily as pieces of paper by the storm that the Bat had produced.  It was with the aid of sheer and remarkable luck that they both smashed into the tower's bulk instead of plummeting to their doom.  Unconscious, they slumped to the floor.

            "Get up!  We gotta kill that thing before it tries wind magic again!" ordered Seifer, rising.

            "Zell, cover me while I summon a GF," Squall said quickly as he began to call for Ifrit.  "Get low and ground me with gravity attack if the monster tries to use its breath before the summon is complete."

            "What?  But that'll hurt you, too," Zell protested.  Squall did not break his concentration to answer the cadet.  "Damn," Zell swore softly.  Turning, he then set the Bat ablaze.

            Seifer took his position closely next to the central column and prepared long-range spells.  Trapped in his thunder attacks, the beast jerked savagely midair, howling in pain.  Zell engaged it from another angle.  In an attempt to close in on the cadets the Bat valiantly rushed head on against the blitz storm of fire and thunderbolts, its claws outstretched to claim the nearest prey.  The act only served to make it an easier target for the cadets to pummel.  Seifer lost no time to take advantage of the proximity and sent charged bolts directly through the Bat's wings.  With its wings electrocuted to paralysis, the creature stalled, then crashed onto the platform.   

            "Keep up the pressure, Dincht!" Seifer cried, making a dash at the momentarily downed Bat, gunblade raised high.  While Zell continued the barrage of fire on the beast, Seifer broke through the blaze and landed three solid blows in succession on the creature's immense torso.  Blood splashed onto him, and the Bat's squeals of agony beleaguered his ears.

            "Seifer, out of the way!" Squall shouted.

            Quaking rumble heralded Ifrit's arrival.  The Bat's form vanished from all's vison under a blinding globe of flame that buried the creature, and this time the deafening roar came not from the creature but from the tower itself as a sizable chunk of the steel platform was incinerated along with the intended victim.  

            No trace of the Bat remained in sight when the globe had consumed itself and dissipated amid smoldering shreds of metal and flesh that rained down following the blast like volcanic ash.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "Excellent!" Zell cheered when the fire died down.  "Holy cow, what a hit!  That totally _toasted_ that bird!"

            "Damn you, Squall."  Seifer seethed from the corner where he had ducked to escape Ifrit's bombardment.  He arose and glanced at the spot where the Bat had been—now present only as a humongous dent of empty air that bit into the trashed platform.  "You damn near took me out with it, too!"

            "I saw you take cover," Squall said in answer to the captain's half-serious accusation, stretching his arms and shoulders.  His entire body tingled in the aftermath of the summon—a typical physiological reaction to the exertion of a newly contracted Guardian Force.

            "People, listen.  Listen!" 

Selphie drew the cadets' attention.  Quickly she stepped up to Seifer and saluted him.  "Now that the hostiles have been dealt with, I have a message for you, Squad B captain.  It's urgent!"

            "Oh, yeah, I forgot.  Who's this?" Seifer asked the boys, pointing to the female cadet.  Selphie's face flushed with indignation.

            "Selphie Tilmitt, from Squad A," she answered briskly in the others' stead.  "I have a new order: All SeeD field exam participants are to assemble at the landing beach by 2100 hours for withdrawal."

            Seifer scowled.  "What?  But the city hasn't even been reclaimed yet!"

            "I think most of the SeeD members are staying—but that's no part of my message.  Like I said, we have to make it to the shore by 2100 hours.  We've got barely half an hour."

            "No way!  We gotta start running, now!" Zell squeaked in panic.

            Selphie shrugged.  "Sorry; I would've gotten to you earlier but you guys weren't at your post.  I was lucky to spot you crossing the bridge in distance.  I had to run like mad after you to catch up."

            "Nice going, captain," Zell groaned.

            "Well, then," said Seifer, folding his arms.  His demeanor betrayed no sign of penitence.  "I guess we're in for a little run.  Let's get moving."

            Without further words, the four students hurried back to the elevator.  Seifer operated the machine.  

"Hey, girl," Seifer said when the lift started down with a lurch.  "What did you capture from that thing up there?  I saw you drawing something major while I had it engaged."

            "Name's Selphie," she corrected, eyes narrowing.  "And it was a GF."

            "You stayed out of the last battle on purpose," Squall observed.  "You aren't junctioned, are you?"

            Selphie looked hesitant as she answered.  "Um... no, actually.  When I got the messenger duty, I let the other squad members equip my GF's.  They needed them more than me."

            "That sort of insane generosity will get you killed."

            "I'll equip the new GF right away, all right?" Selphie said, sounding a little cross at the admonition.

            "You don't even know that GF's capabilities, and an untrained GF won't take so quickly to a human summoner," Squall pointed out.  "I'll let you junction my Quezacotl.  It's a very potent..."

            "...Thunder GF, I know," Selphie picked up.  "I've used it before.  Since you already seem to have some pretty strong GF's, I will gratefully accept for the time being.  Thanks, that's nice of you."

            "Don't abuse it."

            "A real charmer, aren't you?" Selphie muttered sarcastically.  Zell cackled beside her. 

            The lift touched down, and Selphie was the first to leap happily onto terra firma.  Once outside the tower and back on the rocky soil, the cadets began sprinting down the mountain in earnest.  The harsh downward slope added both swiftness and caution to their steps.  

            Squall checked his watch quickly.  Thirty-four minutes till the appointed hour.  If they avoided unnecessary confrontations and maintained their speed, it shouldn't be difficult to reach the shore on time, he thought.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Biggs twitched as he hung onto a bare thread of consciousness that threatened to snap any moment and send him plunging back into oblivion.  Gingerly he rolled himself on his stomach and sought to locate the object on which all his remaining thought focused.  He grinned maniacally when he spotted the device still lying by the machine that had occupied him all afternoon; it had not been blown away by the gale that had nearly killed him.  

It seems I've still got my last piece of good luck for this rotten day, Biggs decided.  Wrenching every bit of strength from his protesting bones and muscles, he crawled toward the device with all the speed and diligence of a snail.  His hands at last grasped the object of his pursuit.  

            He laughed weakly as he punched in the keys with trembling fingers.  "Get every last one of them..."  

            The major then well and truly passed out.

I write for your reviews.  Seriously, I do.  Tell me what you think of this chapter.

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)


	15. Withdrawal

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates 

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**15.  Withdrawal**

            "You hear that?" asks Selphie breathlessly.  

            "What did you say?"  Zell glances back.  

            "That sound—like an engine or something!"

            "Battles are still going on all around us.  Just concentrate on running," I advise, though I do hear a distant rumble—is it growing near?—that rings discordantly in the stillness of the mountain path.  The loping pace induces a funny quavering accent in voice.  I run at the tail of the group, and the end of the winding steps is just beginning to come into my view, far down.

            "For crying out loud, you're the slowest things on two legs I've seen all day!  Will you get moving, already?" roars Seifer from ahead.  During our run so far, he has not once lost his lead.

            "Gotta give him the credit, the jerk's fast," Zell quips, though his concession suggests little envy.  "Must come in handy when running for his hide!"

            "I heard a lot of people talking about him," Selphie joins.  "Like how he broke a lot of the Garden athletic records in junior competitions and things."

            "Junior's the key word," replies Zell, looking back intermittently to address the girl.  "They don't count athletics once you register for SeeD candidacy.  Then it's all about field competence and discipline and keeping your cool— HOLY! WHAT'S THAT?"

            I pivot in the direction of Zell's outstretched hand to determine the cause of his outburst.  All of a sudden I realize that the rumble is now sharp and close, accentuated by a chain of rapid thumps.  For a moment I see nothing, only the slope of the steps we have just covered.  Then I trace up that slope—and find at the visible top of it, and charging at us with inordinate speed, a black and gray _thing_, a busily moving heap of metallic mass and limbs.  

Huge.  So much so that had it been a little wider, it should not have been able at all to move along the cliff-edged flight of steps.  But it _is_ moving agilely down the narrow path, and it is scarcely fifty yards away.

            "Another monster?" Selphie inquires.

            "No, this one's man-made."  Zell's answer is confident.

            "Forget it—let's go!"  I resume running, and the others' feet follow.  "Seifer!  Company!"

            "_Major_ company!" Zell rejoins.

            Far ahead, Seifer skids to a halt and turns our way.  Immediately spotting the giant pursuer, he waves at us violently, screaming: "Dammit!  We don't have time to waste on this thing!  Hurry down!"

            For once I find myself in agreement with him.  Throwing all precaution aside, the three of us begin bouncing down the stairs at full speed, skipping three, four steps in a rushed stride.  The noise of the approaching machine steadily increases.  I can neither afford nor risk looking back to check its distance.

            "It'll catch up—" Selphie starts.

            I cut her off.  "Just get as far down as you can before it does." 

The rhythmic clashes of metal against rocky ground begin to reverberate palpably, all the while growing stronger and stronger.  There's no choice; we will have to engage the machine in no time.  

"Keep running and prepare your strongest magic—"

            The quaking thumps all but mute my words, and they are distractingly close…

            "Shit, we can't run anymore—" Zell cries and whirls around, fists clenched.

            "Zell, no!  Don't engage it physically!"  

I turn after him, and the machine is _there_, before my eyes.  Zell strikes one of the robotic legs with three successive punches.  His spell-enhanced fists draw fiery particles from the hits.  The robot—it somewhat resembles a spider, I note offhandedly—shakes, and briefly its enormous frame tilts precariously as the stricken limb gives way.  A large, shiny claw at the machine's front, similar to a pair of tongs, catch my eyes.

            "Hey, get _down!_" warns Selphie.

            Zell belatedly detects the open claw jabbing—it's the only way to describe the movement, so quick is it—at him.  I aim for the joint of the steel claw and cast fire.  I am too late.  Zell stumbles backward in his effort to veer out of the claw's reach, tripping on the stone step.  Before he falls to the ground, the claw snatches and hoists him up.  His torso is trapped squarely between the massive pair of slashers, and his legs kick the air helplessly.  The claw squeezes, and sparks fly from its friction with Zell's shield spell.  He screams.

            "No!" Selphie cries.

            Climbing onto one of the machine's appendages, I leap high and raise my sword to strike the claw at its root.  I am about to deliver the blow, and abruptly my vision, taken up by the up-close view of the robot's gadgetry and Zell's thrashing figure, bursts in flame.  The explosion knocks me back midair, and I fall on my backside.  A déjà vu of my earlier days as a clumsy gunblade trainee, when I could hardly strike an opponent without doing nearly equal damage to myself, flashes through my mind.  But I never even hit the robot.  Shaking my head to clear the disorientation, I see Zell a few feet off on the stairway in much the same plight as me.  The front side of his uniform is charred and tattered as he rises shakily from where the machine had apparently dropped him.

            The crazy fool had detonated a fire spell directly into the claw holding him—practically in his own face.  And in mine.

            A motion from left returns my attention where it is due.  The robot has stepped back somewhat, but it is completely unscathed save the smoke that emanates from where Zell's desperate attack had hit.  

A flash of gray flies into my view.  Seifer, I realize.  Executing the move I never got to complete earlier, he brings his sword down on the robot's smoldering claw, and it snaps off with a shrill crunch.  He follows with another round of fire on the same spot.  The robot lurches backward with a scraping noise that sounds oddly like a grunt.  I move to join Seifer's lead, and stop short when I notice the black swirl of clouds gathering low over the enemy's bulk.  I know those clouds.  And I've never been this close to them before.

            Closely at the heel of that thought, a pillar of light splits the sky.  The pillar descends upon the machine, and all goes blindingly white before me.  I shield my eyes.  A terrific blare like a thousand wails tears through the atmosphere.

            "Guys, are you all right?" I hear Selphie shouting in concern.  I open my eyes to see her and the others.  All except the girl look slightly shaken, but they appear unhurt by the flare.  

The robot is still there—now motionlessly slouched on the steps.  Dark scorch marks and ruptured cables speckle its frame, and the air sizzles in the immediate vicinity of the superheated mass.

            "A bit too close for comfort.  But it was a good hit," I tell her.

            "Was that a GF, just now?" Zell asks, rubbing his ears.  "Damn, my ears are ringing."

            "Uh-huh, that was Quezacotl.  Nothing like a bolt of lightning to put a berserk machine in its place, don't you think?"

            "Good work, girl.  Now get back to…"

            A sudden metallic screech stops Seifer in the middle of an uncharacteristic praise.  Together we turn to the robot.  It is slowly getting back on its four legs, and bangs and sparks accompany its each movement.  A pipe bursts out of a mechanical limb, emitting steam. 

            "Still moving…?" Selphie says in wonder.

            "No way anyone's still alive in that thing… it must have a preprogrammed targeting system," mumbles Zell.  "Okay, what do we do now?  Run?  Or hit it again?"

            I check my watch.  "Twenty-seven minutes," I inform flatly.

            "Let's move!" Seifer barks.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            The next twenty-five minutes elapse in a blurry haze of madness and adrenaline.  

The four of us are on the run for hardly three minutes before the abominable cadence of the machine's feet insinuates itself into our ears again.  The stairway is already behind us, and we are on the bridge that will take us back into the heart of Dollet.  With even terrain beneath our feet once more, we are able to run with greater speed and concentration.  Unfortunately, so is the thing behind us.  I spot it entering the bridge just as we reach the midpoint of the structure.  

            I holler to Selphie.  "Selphie, summon Quezacotl again.  But don't slow down—just summon him as you run, even if it takes more time."

            Selphie's head whips back to confirm that the robot is still relatively far away.  She nods quickly.  "All right!"

            "I'm also going to summon a GF," I tell her.  "Unleash Quezacotl after my GF strikes—after, not before.  Understand?"

            "All right!"

            The robot's sound nears.  Allowing three seconds for Shiva to appear, I wait until the pursuer is roughly thirty yards behind me and cast the summoning spell.  I can see the streets beyond the bridge.

            Shiva crystallizes directly in the path of the onrushing enemy, interposing herself between the robot and my party.  The robot betrays no indication that it has noticed the GF and continues to charge.  Then Shiva's blizzard storm avalanches upon it, and the machine disappears in the miasmic profusion of snowy dust.  When the brief storm settles, the machine's form is neatly fused with the bridge by giant clusters of ice.  It appears to have been frozen solid.  I motion to Selphie to hold off her GF attack.  Perhaps it will not be necessary.

            I am proven wrong the next moment.  With another bizarrely animalistic grunt, the machine quivers back onto its feet as though it were shivering in cold, and the mantle of ice cracks to pieces.  

            "Stubborn bastard, huh?" remarks Seifer.  A certain note of pleasure marks his words.

            "Selphie, go ahead and hit it."

            A quick and intense flash, and the pelt of ice that still coats the iron spider shatters to a million shards around its bulk in a spectacular halo.  The ice vaporizes immediately in the heat of electrocution.  It will be an extraordinarily tough piece of machinery indeed that can withstand being frozen and then fried, all in a minute.  The radical change of temperature alone should be devastating to the sensitive internal parts and circuits.   

A number of small but distinct explosions rock the machine.  Once again it growls.  Its steel appendages seem to wobble for a second.  Then they take a step forward.  And another step.  And another.  It seems that I am wrong again.

            "You almost have to admire its persistency…" Zell mutters.

            "Guys, we have exactly twenty minutes left!" Selphie reminds us.

            "All right, let's get going again."  We move out, and Seifer turns back to the robot, which is slowly picking up its pace.  "A parting gift.  You deserve it," he says with a grin, and hurls a fireball at its center.

            Getting off the bridge, we run on to the streets of Dollet.  I take a last look behind me before the buildings obscure the view of the bridge.  

The robot is still moving.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "You sure this shortcut is actually a shortcut?"

            Seifer ignores Zell's question.  We run in a single file along a narrow and straight back alley of the residential quarter, a convenient alternative to the snaky main street that we had taken earlier.  That is, _if_ this is indeed the right shortcut, which Zell evidently entertains some misgivings about.  

            "Hey, did you hear what I said?" Zell yells.  

Give it up, Zell.  Please.

"Damn the fool… yo, how much time have we got, Squall?"

             I don't need to look at my watch, having done so only moments before.  "Fourteen min…"

            My answer is cut short when a not so distant scream echoes through the alley.  It's not just a scream, I then realize.  There are more than one, and they are soon accompanied by the uproarious noise of something being _wrecked_. 

            "What the…  D'you suppose the Galbadians are finally counterattacking?"

            Seifer chooses this moment to acknowledge Zell's query.  "Hope so; maybe then they'll retract the withdrawal order."

            Zell gets no chance to shoot back a reply.  The wall of the building to our right erupts and crumbles, and the four of us bustle to avoid being buried under the rubble.  All the same, a dusty smoke swallows us.

            "What happened?"  I hear Selphie somewhere beyond the thick screen of dust.  "Guys!  Are you all right?"  

            And then I hear the _other_ sounds.  The grunts.  The thuds.  And the quaking mechanical sputter.  I wave my arms frantically through the smoke in an effort to locate the other people.

            "It's that spider again!" cries Zell, popping into my vision.  "I saw it!  The God-damned thing is still after us!"

            "C'mon, all of you!  This way, hurry!"

            Zell and I run over the debris toward Seifer's voice.  Selphie is already with him.  She literally jumps in relief upon catching the sight of us two.

            "It's the robot," I tell Seifer.

            "No shit," he says.  His eyes are somewhere behind my back.  I whirl around, and there it stands, tall and enormous among the ruins.  It is a complete mess, bearing the scars that the GF's have inflicted.  For some reason it looks like a badly mistreated toy.  For a moment it is still, almost brooding.  Then it resumes the chase.

            I check my watch.  "Twelve minutes."

            Without further words we start running again, and the robot is unstoppable behind us.  The stampede of one crashes through the alley in pursuit, and walls collapse left and right in its wake.  

            "Not good, not good!" Selphie cries.  "We have to get back to the main street!  That thing will demolish this whole neighborhood!  People are gonna get hurt!"

            "Yeah, people like _us!_" Zell shouts.

            "We've *_got_* to get back onto the street!" Selphie screams harder.

            "This way."  Seifer makes a sharp left turn at a corner.  I follow, and the boom from the rear tells me that the robot has just ripped through the corner without bothering to make much of a turn.

            "Hell, that thing is bulldozing right through the buildings!" says Zell disbelievingly.

            "Faster, faster!" Seifer presses on.  He is gradually beginning to outstrip the rest of us.  Meanwhile the machine is closing rapidly.  We are dead if it engages us in this cramped one-way lane.  "Up ahead!" 

The central avenue is finally visible as an upright strip of light at the end of the darkened alley.  We dash toward the light.  Upon exiting the alley the line of vision broadens to include the vista of downtown Dollet.  It is the street that had brought us into the city earlier.  We are within perhaps ten minutes' running distance from the beach, maybe less.

At our tail, the spider bursts out into the boulevard, and debris goes flying high as more houses fall victims.  Fragments of wood and bricks drop onto the street, showering us with more dust.  Selphie yelps when something hits her on the head.  Her day seems to be fraught with mishaps.  I could say that of all of us.

            We turn a corner and run smack into a small band of Galbadians, who have their backs turned to us.  One of them turns and leaps in surprise.

            "Hostiles!  Hostiles!" he squeals.

            "Oh, get out of my way!" cries Selphie, reaching for the pair of black bars that have been at her side all day.  *_WHACK!_ *  And the loudmouthed Galbadian is knocked flat, and so is his bloodied nose.  Selphie brandishes the nunchaku through the Galbadian company, and the soldiers yield way in panic as we run straight past them.

            "He-hey!  Stop there!" one of the soldiers shouts from behind.  We pay them no attention and continue dashing at full pace.

            "Let'em have a taste of their own medicine," mutters Zell beside me.  

            "Stop, or we'll fire!" the soldier's voice comes again.  "Men! open fire at will… _Waaaaaahh!_"

            The spider rampages through the soldiers and sends them scrambling for their lives.  Seifer and Zell cackle, though our situation has improved little.    

            We are nearing the city limit.  By some unspoken consensus the group splits.  Or maybe it's just that our natural differences in speed are coming out, now that we begin an open spurt.  Each of us runs individually, spread across the expanse of the street.  Seifer is at the lead as usual, while for a reason I don't quite understand I elect once again to fall slightly behind the others.  I am glad to note that the robot appears a tad confused as to which target to pursue.  Its path draws a subtle zigzag after different preys.

            "Five minutes!" I shout.

            "We're almost there!  I can see the perimeter!" Selphie shouts back, out of breath.

            "Damn it!  It's closing again!  We can't stop to engage it!"  Zell discharges a bolt of thunder at the robot.  It hits one of the spider's legs, and the machine staggers for a second.  Only for a second.

            Ahead, cadets who have been stationed near the shore are exiting from their posts.  More cadets join them from different directions.  Clamors of agitation reach my ears, and I know that they have seen the spider.  When we reach them, the robot is so close that we can't even afford pausing to address them.  We maintain our course and sprint for the city gate that opens to the beach.

            "Wha-What the hell?" a stupefied cadet exclaims, jumping back as I rush past him with a fifteen-foot-tall hunk of steel trailing behind me.  

            "An enemy vehicle!" another cadet cries.

            "Fellas!  We need some help here!" Zell calls out.

            "It's after those four!  Cover them!" 

            An absolute pandemonium ensues in our wake.  Fire and bolts and shells begin pouring in from all directions, and their thunderous bangs clash with the relentless percussion of the spider's charging steps that remains through the onslaught steady and nigh.  Passing under the arch of the gate, I chance a quick look back.  The machine is beset in a torrent of blasts.  It convulses violently—the cadets' fires are shredding its armor, and internal explosions flare all over its trunk.  Yet through it all it runs after us, and only us.  This monster will hound us as long as it has a functioning set of legs!

            "Guys—jump!"

            That was, of course, Selphie.  

One after another we leap off Dollet's brick-and-mortar foundation and drop down to the sandy beach.  I stumble in my landing and roll on the sand.  I pick myself up with a curse.  The ocean that stretches before me is scarlet under the setting sun.  Vessels with open hatches beckon me at the shore.  I dart at them after the others.  My feet feel heavy and clumsy on the soft soil, and my lungs pump air like they are about to burst.

Seifer has already reached the vessel, and his form vanishes into the shadow of its gaping mouth.  Zell and Selphie are almost there as well.  They are safe.

            Behind me the machine tumbles onto the beach and collapses with a dull, weighty thud.  Sand cascading down its body, the half-busted monster stands again to recommence the pursuit.  The vessel is but a few dozen yards away.  I realize with dismay that the robot's giant legs are much faster than mine on all this sand.

            Onward, a figure climbs to man the heavy machine gun mounted atop the attack cruiser.  The vessel is slowly pulling out of the beach, the fore hatch still wide open, and seawater foams and splashes around it.

            "Squall, hurry onboard!" cries the instructor, her hands on the gun's dual handle, poised to fire.

            I rush into the cold sea.  In an instant I am up to my waist in water.  Reaching and hanging onto the platform of the departing ship, I clamber onboard.  Gloved hands grasp me under the arms and help me out of the water.  It is Zell.

            A string of sharp, rapid cracks forces my attention back to the land.  The spider jolts and spasms under the machine gun barrage, scattering shrapnel across the beach.  Fist-sized holes riddle the machine.  A final groan escapes its battered frame.

            I only see the spider bursting into orange flame for a fraction of a second before the hatch closes before my eyes, shutting out the sound of the explosion ashore.  I am left in what feels like an eerie quiet inside the vessel.

            I walk to the main compartment to do something that I can almost swear I haven't done in days: sit.  I note that several pairs of eyes are regarding us—Seifer, Zell, Selphie, and myself—intently.  Seated in the compartment are three cadets whom I do not know.  I imagine they are sharing this vessel home with us.  Their gazes are uneasy, shifting from one of us to another.  

In a flash of sudden insight I realize that they are _clean_.  And we are not.  We are all covered from head to foot in dust, and I especially in sand.  Selphie, the lone lady, produces a comb from somewhere and starts daintily combing the dust and wood fragments and what not out of her hair.  Drying blood stains decorate Seifer's coat liberally.  Both Zell and I sport large, dark singes on our uniforms.  And I am dripping seawater wherever I walk.

            The tension builds thick in the compartment.  At length one of the three cadets opens his mouth to throw the question that doubtlessly all of them have been dying to ask.

            "What the hell happened to you guys?"

            From his seat across the strangers, Seifer erupts in laughter.  He goes on laughing uncontrollably for a good minute, unconcerned with the cadets' worried stares.  With a sigh I seat myself at a corner, closing my eyes as I lean back against the hull.  I do not speak for the duration of the trip.

Author's Note

I am finally done with the Dollet arc!  It was a challenge for me, but it was also a great deal of fun.  We are now ready to go into the real story.  

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)


	16. SeeD

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**16. SeeD**

            "Hey.  Hey, wake up," someone said, shaking his shoulder.  Squall opened his eyes and saw a mirthful Selphie.

            "That's cool—how do you do that?" she asked.

            "What?" 

            "Sleep while you're sitting upright.  And in a moving ship, too!  I thought you were just resting with your eyes closed."

            The vessel was no longer moving.  "Are we docked?"

            "Mm-hmm.  Everyone already got out."

            Shoot, Squall said to himself, rising.  The sky was quite dark when he set his feet on the docks of Balamb, and the silvery moon was in full rise.  

            Seifer was speaking with Fuujin and Raijin outside the ship.  "How'd it go?" Squall caught Raijin's robust voice.

            Seifer exhaled a groan.  "Lordy… they were like lead weights tied to my ankles.  Even got saddled with an extra one towards the end.  Being a leader ain't easy."

            Seifer walked off to the parking lot with his comrades.  Restored to his proper trio, Squall thought.  No doubt it was the happy state of things for all concerned.

            "Well done," Quistis said, stepping out of the vessel.  She cast a wry glance at the bedraggled forms of Squall, Selphie, and Zell.  "Clearly a bit worse for the wear, but fortunately you all made it back without significant injury to speak of.  Where's Seifer?"

            Squall pointed in the direction of the parking lot.  Quistis shrugged, sighing.

            "The exam result will be announced at 1100 hours tomorrow.  You are given free time till then.  You don't even have to return to campus tonight if you wish, but if you do return today, make sure to do so before the gate closes.  Dismissed."

            The instructor and the cadets exchanged salutes.  As they filed out, a Garden master administrator, dressed from head to toe in a flaming robe, that had been standing by approached the instructor.  

            "We are one short," he told her.

            "Ah, yes," Quistis said.  "Squall?  Just a moment."

            Squall turned back to his instructor.

            "I need you to turn in your watch.  The others have already relinquished theirs."

            The cadet frowned at the unusual order.  "My watch?" he echoed.

            "It may sound strange, but it's a part of your exam grade."

            Squall undid his wristwatch.  It was a sturdy but otherwise unremarkable piece of personal gear, issued by the Garden for all field trainees.  _What could they want it for…  Oh._

            "Is it bugged?" he asked, the watch in hand.

            "It has a built-in recording device, to allow the judges to know what was said during the exam."

            A hard look, harder than usual, was on the young man's countenance when he handed the watch to her.  Quistis felt herself growing squeamish under his subtly accusatory gaze.  He normally avoided eye contact.

            "Master staff's decision," she added.  She was irritated that the words sounded defensive.

            Squall turned to take his leave without a remark, then paused once more.  "Zell failed the exam, then," he said to the instructor.

            Quistis almost smiled.  "Zell's luck with his watches has been noted by the staff.  Consequently the device was placed elsewhere on him."

            Nodding, Squall departed.

            "A rude one, isn't he?" the master administrator observed from her side.

            "Whatever, sir," Quistis said tersely as she took her own leave, pushing the watch into the administrator's hands.  Her anger seemed to surprise him.  It surprised her, too. 

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Squall regarded the two forlorn figures in the vacant parking lot.

            "Where's Seifer?"  He found himself repeating the instructor's earlier question.  And like her, he could easily guess the answer.

            "He left with his friends before we even got here!  Took the car with him, too," Selphie cried.  Vexation colored her face.

            "That jackass couldn't get rid of us fast enough once the exam was over," followed Zell angrily.

            It figures, Squall thought.  A free night was rare luxury for Garden cadets, and Seifer never missed out on an opportunity.  

"They probably went for an all-night cruise.  We might as well walk."

            "But it's already so dark," Selphie protested.  "No way we can reach the Garden before curfew.  That nasty old gatekeeper will probably make us wait outside until the morning."

            "Yeah, hate'm," nodded Zell.

            Squall sighed.  "Then I suppose we have no choice.  I hope you both have your hotel vouchers."

            "I don't need it," Zell said.  "I'll just go ahead and sleep at my place."

            "No way!  You _live_ in this town?" Selphie exclaimed.

            "I sure do.  I mean I used to, before I moved into the dorm.  It's a bit late, but my mom should still be up.  You guys can spend the night with us if you want."

            "That is so kind of you.  Can we do that, Squall?"

            Why is she asking me? Squall wondered grumpily.  He honestly preferred hotel.  Sleeping in someone else's house was something he had not done in years.  

Zell started walking before Squall could speak.  "Let's go.  It's only a few blocks from here."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "Ma, I'm home!" 

            A portly woman in an apron walked out of the kitchen at Zell's voice.

            "…Zell?  What are you doing here at this hour?  Don't you have to be at the Garden?"

            "Sheesh… thanks a lot for the welcome.  I told you I was taking the SeeD exam today, didn't I?"

            "And the neighbors have hardly been talking about anything else for a week.  Good grief!" she cried upon taking a good look at her son as well as the two cadets behind him.  "Zell, you are a complete mess.  I sure hope you didn't go into the exam looking like this."

            "Rest assured, Mom.  I only came out of it looking like this," he replied in good humor.  

            "It was pretty tough, hmm?"

            "Nah, no sweat.  Mom, these are Squall and Selphie."  Zell gestured to his companions, who bowed to the older woman.  "The ass—I mean our squad captain ditched us, so we'll put in here for the night.  We are walking to the Garden in the morning."

            "Oh, sure, sure.  It's nice to meet both of you," said Mrs. Dincht, undoing her apron.  Her eyebrows lifted when she noted Squall's still-soaked uniform pants.  "Excuse me, young man, but you seem to have wet your trousers there." 

            Squall felt his face grow warm.  Selphie giggled openly.  Shooting the girl a sharp look, Squall stammered to the effect that he had had to run into the sea after his ship.

            "That rather sounds like something my boy here might do.  You seem too calm a fellow to get caught in a hurry like that," chuckled the older woman.  "Anyways, give those clothes to me and I'll get the salt water out of them for you."

            Squall stared at Mrs. Dincht blankly.  Did she just tell him to strip out of his pants?  

            "Ah… well, thank you, Mrs. Dincht, but," Squall struggled to find the words while Selphie continued to snigger, "I really don't want to be a burden, so I'll be sleeping at the hotel.  I'm sure they'll be able to do something about the uniform there."

            "What?  You're kidding!" cried Selphie despite another look from the boy.  "Why can't we just pass the night here?"

            "You can."

            Selphie rolled her eyes.  "Oh, please—a girl spending a night alone at a guy's place?  You say some really harebrained things at times.  It'll look bad on me."

            "She's right; you should both stay here," said Mrs. Dincht.

            "Thank you," Squall said.  "I really think I shouldn't.  The Garden issues us vouchers for this sort of situation…"

            "Ugh, that's enough, Mr. Principle," groaned Zell, clapping his palm to his forehead in despair.

            "Zell," his mother called sharply.

            "Kidding, Mom!  I tell you what, Squall: we'll all go to the hotel for the night."

            "What for?"

            "'Cause if you won't sleep here, then neither will Selphie, and I don't want to split the group 'til we get back to the Garden.  That okay with you?"

            "Sure," said Squall, a bit uncertainly.

            "Be sure then to come back in the morning for breakfast," said Mrs. Dincht.  

            "That we'll do, Ma.  You two wait a minute here.  I'm gonna grab some clothes that aren't scorched black.  You want me to get you a change of clothes, too?"

Squall declined the offer.  When Zell was back from the quick visit to his room, the three cadets bade his mother a good night and headed to the hotel.

            "We gotta do something about that diehard spoilsport attitude of yours, Squall.  It's getting old really fast," Selphie said as they walked.  Squall endured the comment in silence.  

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Early next morning, the three students checked out of Balamb Hotel by the harbor and revisited the Dincht residence as promised.  The meal was a sumptuous event for a breakfast, and Zell especially appeared to enjoy himself immensely.  "Maybe I should thank Seifer when I see him today.  I've been getting tired of missing out on cafeteria hotdogs," he said with a happy grin at the table.  

            They set out for Balamb Garden three hours before the due hour.  Squall was forced to relent to Selphie's insistence that they take a small detour to test her newly acquired Guardian Force.  Zell and Selphie chattered with hardly a break on the way, and Squall wondered how people could talk so long about so many nothings.

            "Do you have an idea of what the Galbadians were trying to do in that mountain?" Zell asked abruptly at one point.  "And what was that huge thing, anyway?"

            Selphie cocked her head.  "Which huge thing?  We saw quite a number of them yesterday.  That crab was just one."

            Squall and Zell looked at the girl.

            "…Crab?" Zell echoed, squinting.

            "Yeah.  You know, the crab.  The thing that almost killed us.  Don't tell me you've forgotten already."

            "I thought it was designed after a spider," Squall felt compelled to say in spite of himself.

            "That's two of us," Zell said.

            "It was a _crab_," Selphie insisted.     

            "Whatever you say," conceded Zell.  "But I was talking about the tower.  You know, after it transformed.  I've never seen anything like that."

            "It's an antenna," Squall provided.  

            "An antenna?  For radio transmission?" 

            "That's right."

            "I thought those were completely useless?  At least that's what I always wrote in my exams," said Selphie.

            "They are useless," Squall confirmed.  "No parabolic antennas have been built or used in almost twenty years."    

            "Why would anyone go to the trouble of reactivating an unusable machine?" Zell wondered aloud.

            "I don't know."  

Squall's answer brought the discussion to a conclusion, and the more talkative of the companions moved on to other topics. 

The sun was already high when the cadets found themselves under the gray gargoyle of Garden's front gate.  There they said good-bye for the time being.  

            "Hopefully we'll all be SeeD's the next time we see each other!" Selphie said cheerily as they parted.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            _"X-ATM092 'Black Widow.'  A highly versatile close combat automaton with an AI piloting computer.  Exceptional durability and combat mobility owing to titanium frame and quick-adjusting targeting system.  Developed for land warfare by the Galbadian military.  An experimental craft; deployment is sparse as of yet.  Dimension: 14.5'x17'x14'…."_

            Squall gave the command to print the document and sat back, gazing at the computer screen.  He had been walking to his room to change when he passed by the library and a thought caused him to enter the facility.  By his side were a small stack of photocopies and printouts of materials containing information on the various things he had encountered in Dollet.  In the last half-hour, he had looked up the two principal opponents his team had fought in the mission, including the large bat-like creature, which he learned was called Elvoret.  He also learned that Dollet's Communication Tower was the only remotely salvageable existing parabolic antenna capable of transmitting signals to all parts of the continent.  Lost in rumination, he was oblivious to the stares that his battle-worn figure was drawing from the immaculately attired cadets in the library.

            "Hey, Squall," someone called, breaking his reverie.  Squall turned from his seat; three cadets were walking toward him.  The one that spoke was the same who had accosted him the day before at the cafeteria.  Oh, no, he thought.  He still didn't remember what the guy's name was.

            "Man, you're still in those clothes?" the cadet asked.

"I just got back from Balamb," Squall replied.  

"Well, wasn't that some shocker yesterday!  Who would have thought the biggest excitement of the exam would come minutes before it ended?  Us three were in the same squad, and we blasted like hell after that robot chasing your team, and it just kept on going!  Heard you made a pretty narrow escape." 

            "Yeah, it was close."

            "Have you heard that the Galbadians were really after Communication Tower atop Mt. Habena all along?"

            For the first time, Squall regarded the unknown cadet with interest.  

"Is that so?"

            "It certainly is.  Damnedest thing, don't you think?  Everyone knows radio communication is obsolete.  …Look, is it actually true that Seifer dragged your squad all the way up the tower?  Everyone's talking about it this morning."

            "Yes.  Excuse me, I need to go get going to change."

            Squall took the materials on the computer desk and headed       for the exit.  Several heads in the library whipped back hastily when he stood, telling him that they had been listening in on the brief exchange.  He stopped at the circulation desk to drop the books and microfilms he had perused.  

            "Um…"

            Squall looked up.  The student librarian behind the desk averted her eyes, then forced them back up to meet his.

            "Yes?"

            "Ah… pardon me, but you were in Dollet yesterday, weren't you?"  Hesitance was evident in her slightly stuttering voice.  

            "Yes?"

            The librarian fingered the end of her long pigtail nervously.  "I heard that your squad got into a big trouble.  Did… Zell do all right?  Was he injured or anything?"

            "Zell?  Zell Dincht?" Squall said, confounded.

            "Uh, yes."  A blush stole across the girl's cheeks.

            A sudden feeling of awkwardness delayed his reply, though the answer seemed plain enough.  Under his gaze, the blush quickly spread down to her neck.  

            "He's fine," he told her.

            "Really?  Oh, uh… well, then, thank you very much, sir.  Good day."

            The librarian scurried away, belatedly hiding her carrot-hued face from him.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Having changed in his room, Squall made his way the lobby.  In a short while they would announce the result of the field exam.  From distance, Cid's form in shirts and crimson vest stood out in the blue and gray sea of uniforms.  He was conversing with a pair of SeeD officers.

            "…I believe we've done a fairly satisfactory job," Xu said to the headmaster.  "Injuries were surprisingly low, and all candidates made it back on time.  Communication Tower, of course, was an unexpected discovery."

            Cid nodded.  "We just received word from the dukedom.  The Galbadian Army has agreed to withdraw on the condition that the tower's uplink remains operational."

            "And Dollet parliament agreed to that?" Quistis said, frowning.  "This was an unprovoked invasion.  I am surprised that Dollet was willing to accept anything less than complete unconditional withdrawal of Galbadian forces."

            "Well, this certainly was a queer move on the part of our friends the Galbadians—from beginning to finish.  Our analysts will want to delve further into this one, I'm sure.  In the meantime, Dollet parliament is just anxious to appease Galbadia as long as the policy doesn't involve loss of territory."    

            "Still, I agree with Quistis that we may have pulled out with unwarranted haste.  Both we and Dollet were a bit too eager to accept a truce."  Xu then grinned.  "Of course, the same could be said of the Galbadians.  It wouldn't have hurt our revenues for them to have put up a little feistier fight."

            Cid matched Xu's grin with a bland, humorless one of his own.  He rubbed the back of his head.  "Oh… You know very well, Xu, that the Garden's interest in these matters has many aspects.  I am tempted to call them complications.  Sometimes, one of them will get in the way of the others…"

            His voice took on a contemplative, nearly private, quality that somewhat bemused the two officers.  Cid looked aside then, and smiled.

            "Ah, welcome, Squall.  I hear your squad had quite an adventure last evening."

            Squall saluted the headmaster.  "Sir."

            "How did it feel to be out on the battlefield at last?  You didn't find it too intimidating, I hope."

            The cadet considered for a second.  "It presented… different challenges."

            "I should imagine so!" Cid chuckled.  "I'm sure you are a resourceful fellow and will adapt to them in time.  Xu here tells me you comported yourself excellently on the field."

            And how would she know that? Squall thought.  _Ah, of course.  They have the watch._  Quistis gave her student a small smile at the headmaster's praise.  He kept his mouth shut.

            "Stick around, Squall.  Exam results are due to be announced any minute now," Quistis said.  Squall saluted the group again and left their company.

            Seifer stood against the rail of the foyer's water fountain, brooding.  Fuujin and Raijin were nowhere to be seen.  He looked up when he spotted Squall.

            "Squall," he called.  "Did you hear about the tower in Dollet?"

            "What of it?"

            "What of it?  Only that that rat hole was the Galbadians' objective in Dollet the whole time.  You hear me, Squall?  You see now what I was doing yesterday?"

            Squall turned away, swallowing a snort.

            "We would have been _heroes_ but for that order to withdraw," Seifer contended.

            "You were only looking for more fights."  Quistis approached them with Xu.

            "My dear instructor," said Seifer, slowly.  "I am aggrieved to hear you say such words against an aspiring student.  Mediocrity, clearly, has gotten in the way of your insight."

            The instructor's composed face flushed visibly.  Squall thought it a credit that she betrayed no other sign of anger.

            "A hero, an aspiring student…  Whatever you call yourself, you're still the same old stuck-up misfit you've always been."  The biting words were from Xu.  "You will take all responsibility for leaving your post.  Had you been a SeeD, you'd have risked the charge of desertion."

            "I say, it's a mighty strange 'deserter' that runs deeper into the enemy stronghold."

            "I'm sorry, Seifer—were you under the impression that the Garden indulges in special exemptions for heroic disobedience?"

            "I was under the impression," Seifer gritted out the words, "that it is a captain's duty on the field to choose and pursue the best possible course of action."

            Xu folded her arms, and her tone bordered on pity.  "Seifer… you will never be a SeeD.  Calling yourself a captain is but a weak joke."

            Fists clenched at his sides, the cadet lowered his head in grim silence.  The talk was over.

            "Officers, will you excuse us?"

            It was Cid.  To the surprised SeeD's he repeated his request with a wave of his hand.  Bowing, Quistis and Xu walked away.  Squall was about to do the same when the older man stayed him with another gesture.

            "Seifer, you will be duly disciplined for your reckless behavior," said the headmaster.  "Xu is right.  You ought to know better than anyone that you are to follow orders to the letter in combat situations."

            "…."

            "That is not to say that I have no sympathy for you.  Or that I do not understand what you were trying to do.  I have confidence that you will one day make a valuable member of SeeD, and the same is true for you, Squall.  And I expect you to be much more than just another pair of arms with a sword.  I want you all to be able to think and act for yourselves—and hopefully you will both decide that the path of SeeD is one worthy of your destiny."

            Seifer was quiet through the headmaster's speech.  Cid stepped closer and placed a hand on the melancholy youth's shoulder.  

            "You will not be a cadet forever.  Be patient, Seifer, and before you realize…"

            "Headmaster, we are ready," a voice said.

            Cid turned to the master administrator who had interjected.  He scratched his head again.  

"Well, then, gentlemen.  I suppose the hour has come.  I will see you both later."

            The headmaster departed after the administrator.  When he had walked a few steps, he turned back to tell the two boys in a low voice, "We'll talk in private, someday." 

            The intercom bell dinged.  "Attention: Those who participated in yesterday's SeeD field exam, report to the third floor hallway at this time.  I repeat: those who participated in yesterday's SeeD field exam are to report to the third floor hallway immediately for the exam result."

            Squall paused halfway to the elevator.  Seifer stood on his spot, unmoving.  

"Seifer?" Squall called.

            Seifer remained still.  Squall exited the lobby alone.     

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

The elevator doors opened to the hallway full of anxious-looking cadets.  Most of them were non-participants in the exam, there to cheer or console their friends depending on the outcome.  Zell's nervous sauntering form was plain.  Selphie, appearing wholly unworried, was deep in a lively chat with others.  Fuujin and Raijin were there as well.  The latter walked up to Squall upon his entrance.

            "Fuujin was saying," Raijin said in his unique manner of boisterous whisper, stealing glances at the snow-haired girl, "that if Seifer doesn't pass today, it'll be all your fault.  Watch out, man; she's scary.  Speaking of which, why isn't he here yet?"

            "You will have to ask him."

            "Is everyone present?" asked a master administrator after a short while.  "Are all twelve exam participants here?"

            "We're missing Almasy," someone said.

            Squall saw a frown under the administrator's heavy headdress that obscured the majority of his face.  "No matter," he said.  "His impertinence will not bear on this meeting.  To proceed, then: of the twelve cadets who completed yesterday's field exam for SeeD qualification, four satisfactorily demonstrated their competence and spirit.  Step forward when your name is called.  These are:

            "Zell Dincht, from Squad B.

            "Nida Fidven, from Squad D.

            "Squall Leonhart, from Squad B.

            "And lastly Selphie Tilmitt, from Squad A.

            "The four newest members of SeeD, follow me to the headmaster's office.  The rest are dismissed."

            The inaugural ceremony was a singularly brief affair.  One by one, the SeeD's were awarded their ranks and initiated into the society that had long been the object of their ambition.  Busy schedule induced the attending master administrator to cut Cid's inspirational speech short.  Squall was frankly glad for it.  

The four youths left the office, no longer cadets but officers, and their first true ranks shined in lonely glint on their uniforms.

            Squall stepped out to the hallway to see, in addition to the crowd of students that had stayed put, Seifer Almasy awaiting him, Fuujin and Raijin by his side.  He halted, finding himself in an inadvertent standoff with his long time rival.  Seifer's expression was inscrutable as he fixed the SeeD's—especially the ones he had himself led in the battle, the day before—with a defiant glare.

A strained hush fell upon the gathering.  All eyes were on Squall and Seifer, the two less than sociable young men whose private rivalry had somehow come to secure the perennial attention and scrutiny of the larger Garden.  Zell and Selphie tensed up beside Squall, warily watching for Seifer's next move.  

He's not about to do anything foolish in front of all these people… is he? Selphie thought.

            No way I'll put up with it if he insults me again, now that I'm technically his superior! Zell said to himself.  _Superior… I gotta admit, I love the way that sounds!_

            Squall decided that he did not care for this childish face-off in public.  If the guy had something to say to him, he'd had plenty of time to do it.  He moved to stride around Seifer's rigid form when the abrupt sound of clapping broke the silence, bringing him short.  To everyone's bewilderment Seifer continued the applause wordlessly, his claps deliberate and resolute.  After a moment Fuujin and Raijin joined tentative hands after him.  The tension then swiftly dissolved away, and the rest of the cadets released their own applause, loud and open and infectious—and in no time the hallway came alive with the uproar of cheers and congratulations.  In a gush they closed upon the newly appointed officers, who fidgeted in—mostly happy—embarrassment, enveloping them.

            Amid the inundation of friendly clamors and pats on his back, Squall caught a glimpse of Seifer.  He was walking away from the crowd, accompanied by his loyal gang.  

            Much hubbub marked that morning.  An impromptu parade was put on from the third floor to the main lobby in honor of the new SeeD members.  Squall tried to extract himself discreetly from the lively procession and was detained by both arms by Selphie and Zell.  Friends teemed to greet them when they marched down the floors, and even the usually stern Garden instructors grinned as they walked by.

            "Congratualations, Zell, my man!  You get all the hotdogs you can handle today!"

            "This is so cool, Selphie!  Finally a girl SeeD in the festival committee!"   

            "Nida, you bastard…  Ditched your squad members and got picked to be a SeeD alone, eh?  We'll beat you up good when this is over!"

            "Come on, Squall, smile for once, will ya?  This is your day!"

            "All right, so who's giving the speech first?"

            It was a while before Squall could return to his room. 


	17. Shooting Star

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**17.  Shooting Star**

            "…We the Master Administrative Staff of Balamb Garden extend our cordial congratulations on your formal admission into the Balamb chapter of SeeD.  The Garden is confident that your service for her will be long and fruitful, and that you will not fail to walk in the honored tradition of martial excellence and discipline that has distinguished SeeD worldwide.  As an officer of SeeD, whose members pride themselves on being the finest combat specialists in the world, it is your foremost duty to promote and contribute to the institute's prestige through the utmost application of your abilities, expertise, and vigor…"

            Squall rolled over onto his back on the bed, holding the letter over his eyes.  The wordy document, in effect his employment contract with the Garden, had been included with the exam report that Cid had given him at the inaugural ceremony.  He skipped down to the more pragmatic portions of the letter.

            "…As a member of SeeD, you are hereby released from the constraint of compulsory discharge from Balamb Garden at the age of twenty and made a permanent resident of the Garden.  This status will not change as long as you remain in the Garden's employment.  You will be ordered to relocate to a new private quarter as soon as one is ready for you.

            "You will continue to serve alongside the noncommissioned populace of the Garden.  Be it understood: in no way does your rank as an officer entitle you to ascendancy over trainees in any unofficial or private capacities.  Unsanctioned assertion and exercise of senior authority for purposes of self-aggrandizement is strictly prohibited and is a ground for disciplinary action upon discovery.

            "On another note, the nature of your services, as well as your privileges, will be distinct from those of cadets.

            "According to your standing rank, you will be paid monthly salary.  All facilities at Balamb Garden remain free of charge at your disposal.  When acting in official capacity outside the Garden, you may draw from the Garden's account to purchase goods or services necessary for completion of the given task.  If, however, the task requires that the Garden's identity be kept in secrecy, you are to assume temporary financial responsibility of the expenditure and file for reimbursement from the Garden when it is safe to do so…"

            Knock, knock.  Someone was rapping on the door.

            "…At any time you may be dispatched in a group or as an individual to accomplish a specific mission objective.  Maintenance of SeeDship, as well as promotion and demotion, depend heavily on successful execution of missions.  Be advised that you may on occasions be forced to persist through considerable intervals without contacting the Garden…"

            Knock, knock, knockety-knockety-knock.

            "…Both in peace and in battles, you have the task of guiding Balamb Garden's trainees with examples and leadership.  Despite your promotion, all articles and clauses of Garden Code that you abided as a trainee remain as the sole authoritative code of your conduct and behaviors…"

            BANG!  THUMP! 

 "Hello, Squall!  You're in there, aren't you?"

            Squall sighed and let the paper fall on his face.  

            "Squall?" came the voice again.

            "Just a moment."  He got up from the bed.  "What is it?" he asked the visitor, opening the door just enough to allow a narrow crack.  He was promptly shoved back when Selphie, a picture of exuberance in her full gold-and-gray SeeD regalia, pushed her way into the room.  She fixed the bewildered occupant of the room with a knowing, critical stare.

            "Hah!  I knew it," she exclaimed, pointing at him.  "The ball is about to begin, and you aren't even dressed for it.  Don't you know everyone's looking for you?"

            "Why?"

            "Why!  Because the whole thing is in honor of the new SeeD's, and there are only four people this time that fit that description, that's why!  Did you really think you could just not come and no one would notice?"

            "All the same, I don't _like_ balls."

            "Too bad, big guy.  You're coming, and that's an order from the headmaster.  We thought it all out, see?"

            Squall stroked his forehead to relieve a headache that wasn't there.  "…Fine.  I'll be there in a little while, all right?"

            "Uh-uh, I don't think so.  You go put on your SeeD uniform right now.  I'll wait outside."

            "Fine, whatever."

            *    *    *    *    *

            "I don't understand at all why you are so loath to come," Selphie said as they neared the ballroom.  She cut her companion a sideway grin, at once merry and sly.  "I mean you've got no reason to shy away.  I'm telling you, you look _good_ in that getup.  Positively dashing, take my word for it.  Didn't you see the looks those girls were giving you—and me?  They were oozing envy.  I could tell."

            "…."

            "Listen," she said after a beat.  "I'm gonna say something, but I don't want you to freak out, okay?  I just want you to listen and consider."

            Squall regarded his petite companion doubtfully, unsure where she was going now.  Her green eyes were large and hopeful, and they looked to him with girlish expectation.  Instinctively he grew apprehensive.

            "Squall, will you…" she started hesitantly, as if she were trying to brace him for a great revelation.  Squall felt trapped, helpless.  For a second he considered bolting.  "…join the Balamb Garden Festival Committee?"

            Befuddled, he wrinkled his brow.  

"…Festival Committee?"

            "Please, we _really_ need more people!" implored the girl.  "Membership's down to only eight people right now because so many students graduated or just fell away.  The Quad hasn't hosted a concert in almost six months.  I mean the stage is just sitting there gathering dust, and probably rusting, too.  It's tragic!  I can't bear to let things go on this way!  So… will you?  Please?  I promise it'll be a _lot_ of fun."

            "I'll pass."

            She groaned.  "Oh, well… Somehow I knew you'd say that, but I had to try.  I must have asked fifty people this week."  

            She certainly is full of energy, Squall thought.  She didn't seem upset in the least at his refusal.  

"I thought you transferred here recently," he said.

            "Right, just two weeks ago.  What about it?"

            "For a newcomer you seem pretty busy.  Involved."

            "No kidding!"  Excitement raised her volume again.  "I directed the Trabia Garden Festival Committee for almost a year and I'm also vying to be the next director of the committee here even though I'm new and so I have to work hard, you know, to demonstrate that I am earnest and reliable and now that I am a SeeD, the only one in the committee by the way, I expect I'll be taken more seriously and maybe recruitment will become easier as well.  Anyways I've been busy renovating the committee's online information page all last week and on top of that I also started an online diary for the whole campus to access and what do you suppose I wrote for today's entry?  You guessed it: our sensational escapade in Dollet!  I wrote all about you guys, too—you don't mind, do you?—and so thanks to me you and Zell just might find yourselves celebrities come tomorrow…"

            In vain Squall did his best to tune out her monologue for the remainder of the short walk.  He had only himself to berate for getting the chatterbox going.

            *    *    *    *    *

            The Garden's ballroom was awash with colors.  Vibrantly clad figures moved in pairs across the polished floor gleaming golden under the innumerable chandeliers, small and large.  The marble pillars appeared to cast not shadows but lights in reflection, luminescent to the point of dematerialization.  Notwithstanding his disinclination for extravagance, Squall could hardly forbear to marvel at the hall's grandeur that the evening's occasion enlivened.  He could not remember the last time he had been in the room, but he was certain that it had not been in nearly so festive an atmosphere.  It made for a strange sensation, he thought, for him to step into a chamber in his own home place, reduced to stale banality by long and unbroken years of residence, and find that he was as good as an alien in a faraway realm.  

            That isn't exactly an accurate statement, he then said to himself.  Familiar as it was, the rounded edifice housing Balamb Garden yet retained for him remnants of the excitement and the delighted incomprehension that had overtaken a timid little boy at the first vision of his new home, over ten years ago.  He had stood outside the gateway's blue arch that day, nervous and uncertain, taking in the spectacle of the imposing structure and thinking that it had to the most curious-looking building he had ever seen.  To his young eyes it hadn't resembled a building at all, smooth and glossy without a trace of brickwork anywhere, and curvy-spiral like an inflated conch, when he had seen no house that did not stand erect upon the earth.  Its principal bulk, whence various facilities, the ballroom included, projected in smaller bulges, was a modified dome of immense proportion, with hardly a column in it for support save the single elevator shaft that connected all three levels of the structure.  In sunshine the Garden was a sparkling blue jewel amid miles of pristine forest green that surrounded it, and Squall remembered how torn he had felt on that first day, torn between loving it at first sight and the sheer trepidation its scale evoked.  It was nothing like what the five-year-old had ever seen, nothing at all like the shadowy solemnity of the old stone house by the ocean—where the sound of gulls and breaking waves was never outside the earshot, and the tiny fissures on the aged granite were as much a feature of the house as the…

            Squall started, struck unawares by his own thought, as though he had caught a passing glimpse of something foreign and out of place inside his own head.  When he tried to return to the image for a second look, it had already dissipated to formless oblivion, like an impression come and gone in sleep.  

Was it some kind of a déjà vu? he wondered in bafflement.  A lump of inexplicable unease settled in his chest.  A waitress carrying a tray of drinks walked by, and he took a glass and a quick sip.  The wine tasted terrible.  It was no fault of the wine's, which was excellent.  He didn't like to drink.

            "Get over here, Leonhart," a SeeD officer called from the opposite end of the hall.  With him were the others who had passed the exam, along with the headmaster and another woman.  The woman was Zell's mother.  An arm thrown around his mother's shoulders, Zell beamed and extended his free hand in exact reiteration of the aborted handshake the day before.  Squall took another sip of wine.  Laughing, Zell retracted his hand without a comment.  He was a happy man tonight.

            "Ladies and gentlemen.  Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me your attention for a few minutes," announced the officer who had called Squall over.  The music dropped off to silence.  Everyone in the room turned to the small group.  

            "Not another speech," Squall said under his breath.

            "Shh!  He's gonna introduce us," Selphie said.

"Thank you," the officer addressed the hall with an easy grin.  "This evening I have the privilege of presenting these four young people, who constitute the most recent additions to our illustrious fellowship.  Many of you know them personally.  From left, the first is Zell Dincht, a martial arts expert, and Balamb Garden's undisputed fast food connoisseur…"  Many burst out laughing.  "…and grandson of the late Colonel Mosev Dincht, a renowned Balamb military figure of the Sorceress War generation.  Next is Nida Fidven, who at age eighteen has already distinguished himself in military engineering as a veritable whiz."

            "And a veritable wimp, too!" someone cut in, and another bout of mirth followed.  Nida reddened and laughed.

            "Then we have Selphie Tilmitt, the lone female of the group and also the newest face at Balamb Garden—"

            "_Whoo_-_hoo_!" a female officer in the throng shouted in mimicry of the girl.  The hall erupted in laughter again.  Squall was reminded of why he hated public functions.

            "I see that she has already made herself known during the short time she's been with us," the speaker quipped.  "Miss Tilmitt is the leading spokeswoman for our festival committee.  I for one am looking forward to the next festival.  And finally, the stone-faced fella over here is Squall Leonhart, the very first gunblade specialist to join SeeD.  Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you all to join me in offering our new colleagues our sincerest congratulations."          

When the applause and the cheers subsided, the officer raised his glass and said, "May their futures abound in troubles and ordeals, that they will have ample chances to prove themselves worthy of the name of SeeD!"

"My, these fellows know how to toast their comrades, don't they?" observed Mrs. Dincht as even greater cheers swept the place.  She graced her son with a sardonic but motherly smirk.  "Zell, you know I've had my qualms about your decision to join the Garden, but I stand corrected now.  Congratulations, son.  There couldn't be a career more suited for you."

            Behind the mother and the son, Cid overheard and shook his head, chuckling.  "Public bashing of new officers is something of a tradition in this place, Mrs. Dincht.  No doubt your son will do very well, indeed."

            "Oh, no doubt at all, Mr. Kramer.  Trouble is one thing this boy thrives in."  She smiled at Squall and Selphie.  "I'm so glad that both of you are graduating with Zell.  Look after him, will you?"

            Whatever, Squall thought, looking at the two officers who had fought with him in Dollet.  _I don't imagine I'll be seeing either of these two much after today._

            *    *    *    *    *

            "What's with the gloom, Leonhart?"

            Leaning against a column, Squall turned to the SeeD officer that had introduced him and the others to the gathering.  He had a typical joker's face that Squall disliked.

            "I'm not gloomy," he answered.

            "Come, man.  Mix with people a bit.  No need to stand apart all brooding on a day like this, you know?"

            "…."

            "I know, I know.  You probably wouldn't even bother being here but for Cid's order, huh?"

            Squall made no response beyond raising an eyebrow at the officer's casual use of the headmaster's given name.

            "You're a queer one, Squall.  On one hand you're predictable as a mentally challenged ox, but on the other hand no one quite seems to know what to make out of you.  The Master Staff had to mull over your exam performance.  I was one of the grade consultants, you see."

            "Oh, really?"

            "You bet.  Seifer didn't stand a chance with the staff given what he did, but there was a good deal of discussion over your decisions.  There were substantial property damages to a number of Dollet districts as a result of your squad's run-in with the Galbadian robot, which of course should not have occurred had you all stuck to the mission objective.  Because you were smart enough to defer openly to the captain's authority, the argument turned in your favor in the end.  There's no denying that your squad turned up some pretty interesting, even useful, details concerning the Galbadian intent in Dollet.  But someone had to answer for the gross neglect of the order."

            "I hope you are not telling me that I passed thanks to Seifer."  _Because if so, I'd have to request to be made a cadet again.  _

"Oh, not at all," laughed the officer.  "An appalling thought to you, eh?  But no, the three of you were exemplary in every aspect until Seifer gave the order to move to the tower.  I do believe that moron would've passed along with you and Dincht if he only stayed put where he was damn well supposed to stay put."  He considered something briefly.  "Still, it comes as no small surprise that half the cadets who passed the exam were under supervision of that rookie instructor of yours.  Three quarters if you count the new girl.  No doubt this marks the height of her instructorship, the poor girl."

            Squall frowned.  "What are you talking about?"

            "Huh?  Oh, nothing.  Nothing quite yet, anyhow.  Well, then, do try to enjoy yourself, Squall.  The night deserves to be remembered."

            The officer departed.  Squall leaned back against the column, observing the dance floor and sipping wine when he was reminded of the glass in his hand.  He glanced at the wall clock above the ballroom entrance.  He had been keeping his post there for the past half an hour.  The ball would go on well past midnight.  He would dutifully stay till eleven and quit the place.  

Zell swished across his vision with his dance partner, dropping a nod in his direction.  His dancing is as loud as his moves, Squall thought.  Was that the library girl with him, just now?  Beyond the floor, Selphie entertained a group of guests and officers, Xu among them, with her talk.  The headmaster was in a conversation with a master administrator.  There were a number of master administrators in the hall, all in their never-changing scarlet robes.  Their forbidding still figures were an incongruous sight for the occasion.  No more out of place than I am, Squall thought.  He turned his eyes back to the merry dancers.  Many were guests from outside the Garden.  They looked eminently at home.  He didn't feel at home. 

A spike of self-consciousness added impatience to boredom.  Squall put down the glass on the rail by his side and closed his eyes, inclining his head backward to rest against the cool marble behind.  The music was a poor lullaby in his ears.  He contemplated the night sky over the glass rotunda of the hall, a soothing and inviting mantle of darkness sprinkled with starry dust.  

_Staying till half past ten ought to be enough to make the others happy… right?_

Far above, a silvery arc sloped past the stars and vanished over the horizon.

Absentmindedly Squall thought of a passage from an old Centran text._  …Behold, the star falls; it is a thing of beauty, a fleeting joy to the eyes.  Yet be warned, fellow strangers.  This first flake of snow heralds a blizzard to come, a heavenly woe that will stream down upon us.  Mark ye well—forsooth the star does not fall; it descendeth.  And afore long the firmament shall rain not white but crimson…          _ 

            A presence nearby caught his attention, bringing his thought back down to the earth.  Not ten steps to his left was a young woman attired in white.  Her gaze was lifted to the corner of the heaven that had held him so interested.  Her lips curled.  She turned to him then, and the smile lingered at her mouth as she raised one delicate index finger. 

Squall cocked his head, not comprehending the gesture.  _What, the shooting star?_  His puzzlement grew when the girl began—resumed?—walking towards him in decisive strides, making it apparent that she intended to address him.

            The girl paused in front of him.  Through involuntarily narrowed eyes Squall watched her scrutinize his face, her neck, he thought, craning just a bit.  

_Have I met this person before?  I hope I haven't.  Obviously she's not from the Garden, and she will take offense when she realizes I haven't the foggiest idea of…_

            "You are the handsomest officer here, it seems," she declared.

            Squall stared at her mutely, blinking.  

_I beg your pardon?_

            Before he could give utterance to the words, she flashed a bright smile and said, "Will you dance with me?"

            For the first time in an appreciable while, and this only because he so rarely was obligated to give an oral reply, Squall found himself entirely at a loss for words.  The girl gave him another, more sober look when his vacant expression showed no sign of relenting.

            "Let me guess…" she said slowly.  "You are here with someone."

            _I should say yes._  "No," he said.  His own voice sounded uncomfortable to him.

            "In that case… you must only dance with someone of your liking.  Am I right?" she said.     

Squall didn't know how to answer that.

            "Fine, then.  I know what to do."  Animation returned to her countenance.  "Look into my eyes, will you?"  

With that odd request she stepped even closer, and Squall unconsciously moved backward before the pillar's bulk on his backside surprised him.  The next moment her finger, the one she had saluted him with, was inches away from his face, swirling circles between his eyes.  

"You're-going-to-like-me… you're-going-to-like-me…" she chanted.  She bit back laughter.  In his confusion, the boy was actually trying to follow her fingertip with his eyes!  She withdrew her hand.  "Now, did that work?" she asked.

            Squall fought the urge to shake his head to get rid of the brief dizziness.  He cleared his throat.  He was annoyed at his own discomposure and the one responsible for it, yet he felt the need to be courteous to a guest of the Garden.  

"I can't… I don't dance," he said.

            The answer did not satisfy her at all.  "You will be just fine," she assured him.  "I'm waiting for someone myself.  I can't be on the dance floor alone."  

So saying, she took him by hand and led the dumbfounded youth to the center of the hall.

            *    *    *    *    *

            What's happening? Squall asked himself in a daze while he was being hauled towards the dance floor.  Already they were in the midst of the dancing pairs, surrounded on all sides by the vivacious array of colors and motions.  The girl that had abducted him there took her position and secured both his hands—one grasped in her own and the other guided to her waist.  Squall looked about as though seeking rescue, and only saw, to his severe embarrassment, several cadets at the edge of the hall point at him and his insistent partner.  Their faces were intrigued.  Preoccupied, he lurched and lost his grip when the girl commenced with a spirited tug.  Promptly she reset his hands on the right spots.  They began the dance.  And young Squall found himself in the predicament of his life.  

The music was familiar enough, yet to him the notes rang hopelessly disjointed with his movements.  His feet felt ponderous and his ankles stiff, as if the tall boots that encased them were made of iron.  It was all he could do to shuffle that pair of petrified weights to avoid dancing them all over the girl's own sandal-clad feet.  She moved with effortless grace, the fluid elegance of her figure hampered only by the clumsy hand she led.  Her right hand was smartly perched on his shoulder, keeping him close.  Her face was constantly in his.  It was all surrealistic, and strangely remote, like a dream.  

Then she spun away and pulled, raven-black hair fluttering in a silken wave.  Missing the beat to loosen his clutch, Squall hurtled into her.  The gentle scent of her locks filled his breath for one panicked instant.

Mortification brought him out of the daze.  He awakened from the dream; he was sensible again.  He did the first sensible thing that came to his mind.  He walked away from the dance.  She pulled him back with determination.

"Look—" he began.

            "Let's try this again," she pressed on, wholly undeterred by the flop, as she manually arranged her reluctant partner into the appropriate position once again.  

The girl set them in motion.  Squall resigned himself to her perseverance.  If he had to dance, he decided, he should make no further farce of the situation.  They began moving together.  His response picked up.  Agility was back in his limbs, though awkwardness remained, and fingers fumbled as they met, parted, and switched hands.  It was after a while—interminable, it seemed to him—of frantic jostling on his part, to keep up with the girl's lead, that he oriented his movements to yield to her sways and balance their matched momentum.  Between her adroitness and his assiduity, something of a rhythm arose.

            "Good, much better," she whispered through a pleased smile.  

Squall almost smiled in return, satisfied that his body was proving to be reasonably competent in the unaccustomed endeavor.  In truth few things honed one's instincts in physical interplay as thoroughly as sword training did.  He was then jolted by another collision.  The couple that he had bumped into looked at him and the girl in surprise.  He stuttered the beginning of an apology, and shut up when he saw his companion make an indignant face at the couple.  They should have known to move out of the way, her eyes said as she turned her back on the offending pair in a haughty huff.  Where were we? she silently asked him with an expression considerably more affable, instantly back in excellent humor.  Squall could not help a small chuckle this time.

            Certain ease entered their resumed dance.  The girl continued to steady him with a firm hand atop his shoulder.  She was a patient partner.  She waited until their shared drive strengthened before quickening the pace to the joyous beat of the music.  Their steps grew freer, bolder.  No longer merely swaying together, they moved apart, encircled the space between them, and met again.  The new rhythm was smooth and unbroken.  Very much like good swordplay, Squall thought.  Yes, there was a familiar thrill here—in the pattern of connection and release, of advance and retreat.  Only without the urgency, and in its place a sweet, savory tension.  A different sort of a thrill, but a thrill regardless.

            They joined hands to come together one last time, drawing the dance to a close.  Over their heads, the sky lit and bathed the hall in an iridescent glow.  Squall observed the fireworks, a display he had generally thought garish.  When he turned back to his partner, it was to find her rapt at something over his shoulder.  She answered his inquiring look with an apologetic wink.

            "I've spotted my appointment," she said.  "Excuse me.  And I forgot to say: congratulations."

            A touch on his arm, and she was gone from the dance floor.  Squall watched her form disappear into the crowd.  He was not upset, but he felt unsure of what had transpired shortly before, if anything of note had indeed transpired.  It was after she was out of his sight that he realized they had not bothered to introduce themselves.

            *    *    *    *    *

            She found him alone at the terrace, gazing outward.  Even his backside looks pensive, she thought.  

            "I'm surprised you're still around, even if it's just by yourself as usual," she said, stepping to his side.

            Squall glanced at the instructor.  He turned his eyes back to the dark forest that stretched for miles below the balcony.  "Orders," he said.

            "Ah."  She smiled and folded her arms.  "Required attendance.  Just like classes, hmm?  You must be happy to be done with those, at last."

            He shrugged.

            "Are you sure you aren't sticking around hoping to see your dance partner again?" she asked.  Her tone was mischievous.

            Squall inhaled the breezy night air.  Of course she'd know, he thought.  Along with everyone else at the party.  Come morning, he would surely have to put up with the guys' inane questions about the babe who danced with him.

            "Whatever.  Why does it always feel like I'm being watched around here?"

            "…Says the man who just put on the best show of the night in front of a hundred people."

            "Good God," he mumbled.  "Tell me it did not draw that much attention."

            "No need to blush, now," she laughed.  "It was charming.  I didn't realize you danced so well.  And you thought Social Dancing 101 was a silly requisite, didn't you?"

            A low groan was the only answer she got from him.  

            "I mean it.  The dance was perfect," she said.

            The boy was quiet, maintaining his sight on the scenery.  "Thank you," he said.  After a long moment of silence, he looked sideways at the instructor, who still stood there, as though he had just noticed her.  "Yes?" he said.  What now?  What else?

            Quistis let her arms drop to her sides.  Her voice bespoke annoyance.  "What's the matter, Squall—you don't mind dancing with a total stranger but can't suffer my company for a few minutes?"

            "That's not it," he said.  "I'm not used to having to figure out what you're trying to say.  Normally you just give orders."

            She laughed.  "You know what, Squall?  I think you're right.  It'll be strange for me as well, no longer dealing with you as a student.  Rather boring, too, I imagine."

            "If it's a troublesome student that you need, Seifer alone ought to be more than enough for any instructor."

            Quistis grew quiet.  She looked away.  "Yes.  Right…" her words drifted off as she regarded the melancholy of the nightscape.  Squall noted the shift.  He made no comment.

            "…Oh, I completely forgot," she said suddenly.  "I assume you're about to retire for the night?"

            "Why do you ask?"

            "You haven't had too much to drink, have you?"  She gestured to the half-empty glass in his hand.

            "No.  What's this about?" he asked, suspicious.

            "Since you seem to be missing taking orders from me," she said, cheery again.  "I'll give you just that.  Go get changed and meet me in front of Training Center.  This will be my last order for you."

            "Training Center?"  Squall took a better look at his former instructor, who was in her casual outfit instead of the uniform or the dressy formal attire that the staff were expected to wear to a ball.  "It's late.  What do you want to do there?"

            "It's important that it is late," she answered.  "You will accompany me to the so-called 'secret area' inside Training Center.  It's where students who want to stay out past curfew head to kill time."

            "And we are going there to do what—send them back to bed?"  

            "We are going because I said we are."

            "And if I don't want to go?  You stopped being my instructor since morning, you know."

            She smiled sweetly.  "Don't make me pull rank on you."

            Squall got to his feet.

Reviews are doted on.  Tell me what you think.

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)

Author's note

Been a while.  I hope you like this one; I spent a lot of time on it.  I've never had to describe a dancing scene in my life.  Can you imagine what a hassle it is?

            Also:

            1. You may have noticed that Rinoa is a wee bit… cooler than you remember her.  I believe that Square was going for a certain angle with Rinoa's character but didn't do a very good job of achieving the aforesaid angle.  In fact, I think they screwed it, more than any other single element of the game.  (Well, maybe with the exception of Laguna.  But then we don't see him all that much in the game, do we?)  In FMV's, Rinoa is radiant—she is cool, beautiful, and at once coy and elegant.  In FMV's, Rinoa steals the show.  In FMV's.  Alas.  I have given my Rinoa a modest literary facelift.  I hope you don't mind, 'cause I'm sticking with it.  

            2.  I have purposely made it so that our duo's first dance wasn't as picture perfect as it was shown in the FMV.  I think it needed to be perfect on screen for visual aesthetics' sake.  Not so in writing, at least in my humble opinion.

            3.  Somebody explain to me what the heck all these weird terms are that I keep seeing in the FFVIII fandom.  Yaoi?  Yuri?  Lemon?  Shonen?  What are these, tropical fruit?


	18. Midnight Training

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**18. Midnight Training**

The instructor awaited him at the entrance to Training Center.

"We haven't trained together here in a while," she said as they walked down the long hallway towards the reinforced gate.  "Let's see how well you do today."  

            Some jokingly called Training Center an evil garden inside the Garden, and with fair reasons.  It was an artificially constructed area of jungle and swamps where a carefully chosen selection of vicious creatures roamed free.  It was the only major facility that was removed afar from the main building of the Garden.  It was also the only facility besides the infirmary that was open round the clock, and Squall had spent many late hours there whenever sleep was not a welcome nightly companion.

            Though surveillance apparatuses monitored the place, anyone who stepped into Training Center was responsible for his or her own safety.  It was the Garden's way of disciplining SeeD's to fend for themselves under pressure.  All residents in training were required to complete a given number of hours at the center each term.  Serious injuries were frequent.  As an unwritten rule, cadets did not venture alone into the jungle.  Squall was in the habit of disregarding that rule ever since he was marginally competent with the gunblade.  The few recent times he had been accompanied in Training Center was by a faculty member in observation of his progress, and more often than not it was his instructor who performed that duty.

            It being late at night, and the Garden preoccupied with celebration, the center was devoid of human presence.  Its nonhuman population was all but invisible, lost in the shadows of the rich tropical undergrowth.  The SeeD's proceeded, weapons drawn, along the circular route, well aware that stalkers' eyes followed them closely.       

            The training began with the assault of a pair of grats.  Foul-smelling plantlike creatures of minimal intelligence, grats were highly unpopular with trainees for their penchant for discharging gastric contents at the opponents.  With two rounds of scorcher the SeeD's dispatched the botanical anomalies. 

Squall studied the woman at his side, wondering why she had called him there.  He was never one to refuse an opportunity to train and regularly exceeded his quota of training hours.  Even so, he was surprised that the instructor did not advise to retreat when they ran into the giant reptile that the cadets had nicknamed T-Rexaur—the most lethal species to be found in the Garden compound.  He had thought this would only be light exercise.  Clearly the instructor had something different in mind.           

"Are you sure?" he asked, gunblade held steady at the creature.  It had sighted them, and its approaching strides shook the earth.

            "Why, afraid?" Quistis returned.  She flexed her steel whip in the air with expert ease, and tested it once against the ground, sharply.

            "This is an unscheduled training session."

            "So?"

            "They'll want to know in the morning who's responsible for leaving a ten-ton carcass lying around."

            Her laughter was close to a snort, but good-natured.  "Confident, aren't we?  I will take any responsibility.  Shall we then see if you're as good as your words?"  

She charged ahead.  Squall followed, and the reptile's roar tore through the jungle.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "I must say," Quistis said, "that was a lot quicker than I expected."

            Squall stepped to the swampy pond nearby and dipped the gunblade for cleaning.  The creature was a lifeless mound of flesh behind him.  True to its notoriety, it had put up a fierce fight, but in the end its reptilian blood had not been able to withstand Shiva's icy blasts.  Below the dulled eyes, crimson streaks marked where Quistis' deathblow had torn into the throat.  She stood gazing at the kill.

            "Have you fought one of these alone before, Squall?" she asked.

            "Twice," he said, wiping his sword.

            "Did you win both times?"

            "Mm-hmm."

            "I can see why the headmaster was anxious to see you join us," she said, tucking an errant lock of golden hair behind an ear.  "You are a rare student.  I'll miss teaching you."

            Squall shrugged.  "Sure."

            She smiled in spite of herself.  The boy certainly had a knack for monosyllabic answers.  "You up for another round?"

            "After this?"  Squall looked at the dead creature.  "It's bound to be pretty dull.  Unless you're thinking another T-Rexaur, and I don't think the center staff will let us get away with that."

            "A different opponent, then," she said, stepping back.  Facing him at some distance, she outstretched her right hand and let the barbed end of her whip drop onto the ground.  "Do you accept the challenge?"

            Squall was nonplussed.  "You want a match against me?"

            "Sure," she said.

            "You're my instructor."

            "No, I'm not."

            He considered for a second, still reluctant.  "No regrets?" he said.

            "Go on; come at me."  Her defiant stance remained unchanged, and her grin was mocking.  

Sighing, Squall readied the sword once more.  He deliberated on his options.  Caution was evidently critical.  The whip commanded a substantially greater sphere than the sword, and Quistis was a master of the weapon.  Only minutes before, he had witnessed her slash the throat of a much taller adversary while keeping herself well beyond its reach—something not possible with sword attacks.  She could make mincemeat, proverbial and literal, of any poor devil that rushed headlong against her.

            "Ready?" she asked.

            Squall withdrew his left hand from the hilt and grasped the sword with the right alone.  He held the gunblade at his side, the tip pointing the earth at a downward angle.

            "Good thinking," she said.

            "Here I come."

            Squall sprang at his opponent.  The knife-edged whip came flying his way.  He slapped it away with a counter swing of the gunblade, and was surprised at the force of the resistance he met—though slim, the whip was far from flimsy.  He moved to thrust at her.  Her weapon-wielding arm flung back, and Squall aborted the strike and ducked forward instinctively.  The whip dashed by his ear, barely missing his shoulder.  He rolled sideways on the forest floor, and in another instant he was back on his feet.  She had already retracted and rolled the whip, and its gleaming, jagged tip dangled from her left hand.

            "You rolled instead of breaking the fall with your hands.  Good," she said.  "Otherwise I'd have had you knocked flat—on your stomach."

            "This is a match, not a lesson," he growled.  It had been a close call.  Whatever her reasons, the lady meant business.

            "True," she said.  A deceptively delicate movement of her forearm and wrist, and the steel lash was within threatening proximity again.  He leapt back momentarily to block it, then pushed forward into her space.  She retracted the whip, aiming again for his backside.  He rotated.  The gunblade drew a full circle in the air, and in one smooth stroke it batted off the whip and brought itself down upon the wielder of the whip.  

Quistis spiraled out of the sword's path.  Squall pursued her.  Quickly she reestablished the advantageous gap of fifteen steps between them.  She unleashed the whip.  Squall blocked it deftly.  Maintaining distance, she followed with a barrage of quick, ferocious lashes.  He met each blow with his own.  Each was growing impressed with the other's dexterity.  While Quistis manipulated the snaky instrument as effortlessly as if it were her own limb, Squall's brisk strokes intercepted the fluid movements of her whip with singular precision.

            She applied a stir, ever so subtle, to her stroke.  The lash skipped and danced mischievously in front of his eyes.  For one panicked moment, Squall thought he was about to get a second scar on his face.  With a grunt and a savage yank of the sword he knocked away the lash.  The blade snagged the lash, and the metallic clang of the impact ended in a dull _snap_ as the whip straightened instantly to a taut line.  Quistis pulled, nearly depriving Squall of his weapon.  He held onto it with both hands.  The two opponents stared each other off in a deadlock, her whip noosed tightly around his sword.

            "Looks like I've disabled your weapon."  She grinned, and jerked the whip again a bit.

            "Ditto."  He did not give way.  His former instructor was oddly reckless tonight.  He was beginning to wonder if she hadn't had a little drink herself at the party.    

            The face-off lasted a long moment.  Then she flicked a wrist.  The lash uncoiled, releasing the sword, and darted at him.  He swung the gunblade in a counterstrike.  There was a flash, and a shrill crack, upon the clash.  Quistis cried out sharply, stunned by the jolt of shock that coursed through the arm controlling the whip.  She staggered back and stumbled.  The next moment found her on the ground and his sword poised at her neck.

            Squall withdrew the gunblade.  "That's a round," he said.

            "Yes," she agreed, rubbing her paralyzed hand, which still clutched the whip.  Rising, she examined the grip of the whip.  The leather was warm, and mild singe marks dappled it; it had borne the brunt of the electrocution.  Her fingers throbbed as senses slowly returned to them.  "Thunder junction?" she asked.

            He nodded.  "Sorry if I hurt you.  Was that against the rules?"

            "Since you didn't actually cast any spell, I would say no."  She rolled up her whip.  "That was something new, Squall—to apply an attack elemental junction to a defense maneuver.  It's the first time my own weapon has betrayed me like this."

            "Consider different metal for the whip.  Steel is too vulnerable to electrocution."

            "I think just coating it with a less conductive alloy will do."

            "Do you want to continue?"

            "No, you win today.  Mind you—I said today.  Let's take a break and cool off, and we'll head in."

            Squall frowned.  "Break?  Here?"  They were deep inside Training Center, and they could be attacked any moment.

            "Yes.  You know, in the secret area."  She turned curious eyes on him.  "Squall, have you never been there before?"

            "I assumed it was somewhere right outside the center.  It's actually _in_ here?"  I thought I knew all about this place, he thought.

            She stared at him.  "You're incredible."

            He shrugged.  "How is it a 'secret area' anyway, if an instructor knows about it?" 

            "Well, I wasn't an instructor till last year.  And…."  

She paused, looking down.  She began walking towards the densely wooded northern recess of the center.  "Never mind.  Come on, it's this way."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            The secret area was a secluded corner of Training Center's rooftop, where steam vents and other temperature regulation equipments were located.  The tall trees of the jungle below rose around it, and their wide, supple leaves and branches enclosed the spot, giving it the feel of a cozy alcove.  The night sky unrolled before the rooftop, and the phosphorescent glow of the Garden dominated the simple skyline.

            A number of cadets were scattered about in small groups.  In very small groups, Squall noted.  In fact, mostly in twos, with a suspiciously high concentration of male-female pairs.  Talks were hushed, and even the low hum of the vents seemed to dissolve into the ever-present sound of the forest, of winds and leaves.

            Quistis walked to the roof's rail and leaned over it.  Her chin came to rest on her folded arms.  "I haven't been here for quite a while.  For over a year, in fact," she said.  She turned to him briefly.  "I still can't believe you've never been here.  No one ever told you about it?"

            "Someone probably did," he said.  "Seeing the crowd that hangs out here, I can see why I might have forgotten."

            "Hmm."  A wan smile played at her mouth, and she was quiet.  Squall followed suit and rested his arms over the rail, looking outward at the blue Garden.      

After a minute she spoke, almost offhandedly.  "I haven't said anything about your exam result.  Congratulations, Squall."

            "Thank you."

            They did not speak then for some time.  Squall found the ambience curiously lulling.  The leisurely rustle of the leaves and the chirping insects produced a fetching sort of calm.  It was a quiet less dull, somehow, than the quiet of his own room.  He contemplated the view ahead.

            "What time is it?" Quistis asked from his side.  

Squall started somewhat.  He had almost begun to fancy that he was alone.  Head nearly buried in her arms, the instructor seemed reluctant to consult her own timepiece.

            "Just past midnight," he told her.

            "Hmm," she said again, grimly.  She entered another interval of silence.

            What's with her tonight? Squall thought.  She almost sounded like… him.

            "Did anyone ask for me at the ball?" she asked.

            "Yes.  Your fan club people.  One after another—quite tired me out."

            "Figures," she said.  "I don't know what they see in me.  But I didn't want to see them.  They will be so disappointed."

            She was not making any sense to him.  "What are you talking about?"

            Quistis raised her head and stretched her arms.  "As of now," she declared, "I am no longer an instructor."

It was an unforeseen morsel of information.  He was unsure of how  to digest it.

"You resigned?"

            Her laugh was small and brittle.  "No.  I've been relieved of my instructor's duties.  I am a regular member of SeeD once again, just like you."

            "Oh."  Squall tried to think of some words he should say.  He came up with nothing.

            "Who knows, we may even end up working together sometime."

            "Oh."    

            She threw him a sour glance.  "Is that all?  You can do better than that, Squall."

            "I don't know what you want me to say," he said.  "But if that's how it was decided, I suppose you must abide by it."

            "They took care to sugarcoat their words," she said, turning back to the nightscape.  "But they basically told me that I haven't met the expectations as a leader.  That I was too young…"  She sighed.  "I was only fifteen when I passed the SeeD exam, seventeen when I taught my first class.  It was such a rush—I felt that I had finally achieved something worthwhile.  It's only been a year since then…  Where did it all go wrong?  When did it all happen?"

            With growing despair Squall listened.  Before he knew it the conversation had become a monologue, and he the sole audience.  It was the most abject human situation imaginable to him.

            "This whole past year is surreal in hindsight," she went on.  "One day I am an up-and-coming prodigy of the Garden, and the next I'm the rookie instructor, the new girl, the _baby_, and the home I've known for years is suddenly a very different place.  Even the people."

            His head drooped.  He was slipping into a depression of his own.  What did she expect him to say about all this?  What could she hope to find in him that would make any of this any better for her?  

            "I'm boring you, aren't I, Squall?"

            Squall turned to her.  She was watching him intently, blue eyes wide and serious in the moonlight.  He found himself reiterating his earlier words; they were the only honest words he could think of.  "…I don't know what you want me to say."

            Lowering her gaze, she sighed.  "Maybe I'm not asking you to say anything.  Maybe I just want you to listen."

            "Instructor…"

            "Not anymore."

            "Quistis," he said.  "I don't know how to listen.  I don't know what to feel, when you tell me these things."  

            "That is sad to hear," she said, sincerely.  "I'm sorry."

            For an obscure reason, Squall was angry.  "Hang it all, Quistis, you're missing the point.  I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me.  Don't feel bad for me."

            "Why does it bother you that I care?"

            "Because I don't know how to return it.  Because you have your own problems.  Don't concern yourself with mine, or what you fancy to be mine.  It's needless, and it's foolish."

"Don't you at all feel sometimes—feel the need to confide in someone?  To have your sentiments understood by another?" 

            "We all carry our burdens.  No one may carry mine but I."

            "And the same, for me?"

            "The same for everyone."

            "I see."  

She continued to fix him with her gaze, earnest and grave.  His short outburst over, Squall was uneasy again before her eyes.  

"Did I hurt you?" she asked abruptly. 

            "What?" he said, puzzled.

            She pointed to his right shoulder, calling his attention to a tear on his jacket.  

"That looks like a nick.  Did I do that?"

            "Oh.  It's nothing," he said.  "Must've got it when I rolled."

            "I wouldn't have cut you, you know.  I only attacked with the blunt edge of the lash."

            "I know."

            She nodded.  "Another minute, then we'll head in."

            They watched the dark heavens, each silent with thoughts.  Increasingly Squall felt as though he had done something wretched and despicable against the woman beside him.  But then he was not so sure; it was absurd, the idea that he was at any fault here.  There were few things in the world as disconcerting as an uncertain guilt.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            They were near the exit when the scream reached their ears.

            "Somebody help!"

            "A trainee?" Squall wondered aloud.  He looked about to determine the source.  The scream came again from the west, and with it a savage, strident cry that could not have issued from a human throat.  

            "Over there.  Come on!" cried Quistis, breaking into a sprint.

            What fool had walked in here alone at this hour? Squall thought as he ran through the shrubbery.  But then what had that other noise been?  It had not sounded like any beast he knew at Training Center.

            They soon found the young woman who had called for help, terrified and backed up against the fence.  Before her hovered a large golden creature.  With each flap its translucent wings hissed threateningly.

            "What is that?" Squall exclaimed.  "Since when were there flying creatures here?"

            "_Squall!_"

            The call was from the woman.  Both Squall and Quistis turned to her in surprise.  She looked familiar, he realized.  

Who was she?

"Squall!  Quisty?" she shouted again, relief flooding her fear-stricken face.

            The creature lunged towards the stranger.

            _It's the girl I saw at the infirmary yesterday._  "Get low!" he cried in warning, casting fire.  

The flame impacted against the creature's side and pushed it away from its prey.  The beast screeched amid the smoke, but it remained airborne.  Its green eyes flashed furiously at the interlopers.

            "Can you hold it down?  I just need a second," Squall said.

            "Got it," Quistis replied.

            The creature swooped down upon them.  The SeeD's leapt apart in opposite directions.  Turning, Quistis let her whip fly, and the creature was secured around the segmented abdomen.  It grunted, trying to pull itself free.  Squall was already upon it.  The gunblade crashed through its skull.  The creature fell, headless, to the ground.

            Squall put away his weapon and ran to the girl, who got up on unsteady legs.  He supported her by the arm.

            "Thank you, Squall."  She smiled shakily.

            "How do you know my name?" he asked.  "It was you at the infirmary yesterday morning, wasn't it?"

            "Is she all right?" Quistis said, approaching.

            "I'm fine," the girl assured them.  "Thank you both very much.  I didn't realize what this place was when I wandered in."

            "You're not a trainee here," Squall observed.

            "No, I am not."

            "Pardon us, then, but who are you?  How do you know us?" Quistis asked.

            "Miss Loire, there you are!"

            They turned to the owner of the voice.  Two men in white combat gear were running toward them.

            "Now, who are _these_ fellows?" Quistis said.

            "They are with me," the woman told her.  She moved to meet the newcomers.

            "Are you all right, Miss Loire?" one of the men asked.

            "Yes, thanks to these officers.  I'm terribly sorry.  I was tired of the party, and I ended up wandering in—" 

            "It's not safe here.  Please, let us go."  

The men moved to her sides, each taking an arm protectively.  The one who had spoken made a stiff bow to the SeeD's.  "Thank you both for your help.  We will escort her out."

            Squall and Quistis watched them leave.  The young woman looked back briefly and waved at them.  They nodded back.  

            "Who was she?" Quistis asked as they disappeared from sight.

            "A guest, it seems.  But I saw her yesterday, too," Squall replied.

            "She knew you."

            "You're the one she called 'Quisty.'"

            "I can't remember anyone calling me that.  Not since my parents."  A troubled look shadowed her face.

            "We should get going," Squall said.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *   

            They said good-night upon entering the main compound.

            "Be sure and have that wound cleaned before you go to bed," Quistis told him.

            "Fine."

            "Sorry for keeping you up so late on your big night."

            Squall nodded.  "Sure."

            Her lips curled in a rueful, but not humorless, smile.  She leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the boy's cheek.  

"Sleep tight.  Life of SeeD begins for you in the morning."

            They parted.

Reviews are doted on.  Tell me your thoughts about this chapter.  You have some, don't you?

--PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)

Author's note

1. So Squall's not quite the tactless SOB he is in the game.  Get over it.

2. Quistis is a saint in this chapter.  Get over that, too.

3. I know the kiss isn't in the game.  But, hey, it's the guy's graduation night.  Consider it a gift to our hero—not that he'll ever appreciate it.

4. No, there will not a "Quall" in the story.  I still say Quistis rocks.


	19. Interviews

**Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates**

**by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)  **

**19. Interviews**

            Cid watched while the master administrator read the document.  He could tell that the thin frown at the official's mouth was not merely one of concentration.  He had expected this.  Cid waited.  None but the soft sound of pages turning perturbed the quiet of the office.  

The master administrator put down the slight stack of papers.  "No doubt you anticipate my words, headmaster," he said.  "Norg will not be pleased with this."

Cid lifted his chin from the hand he had been leaning on.  "Galbadian aggression is beginning to take unpredictable turns.  It requires our attention.  This could be an opportunity.  I believe he will understand."

            "I am aware that Galbadian agendas create significant sources of Garden's income," the administrator said.  "However, we are no government.  We do not dabble in diplomatic operations.  We intervene when all diplomacy has been abandoned—provided force stands a chance to prevail where diplomacy failed.  Timber is hopeless."

            "That does not mean we should put her out of our thoughts.  Galbadia is enough of a reason for us to maintain interest in Timber."

            "Precisely my thoughts, Headmaster Kramer," the administrator said.  "Galbadia is the one to be considered, not Timber.  We are already at the top of the Deling regime's list of unfriendly forces.  This," he put his finger on the document, "will not alleviate the situation."

            Cid leaned across his desk.  "We will be out of favor with Deling as long as his policy remains what it has been for the past twenty years.  We must proceed with that understanding where Galbadia is concerned."

            "I don't understand, headmaster.  Suppose they are found out?  What then?  No one knows what it may provoke the Galbadians to do."

            "As the contract assures, all involvement will be in secret," Cid replied patiently.  "They will not be found out.  You speak as though we were sending out an invasion force against Galbadia."

            "Because it could very well be perceived as such, headmaster.  We battled Galbadians only days ago."

            "Yes," Cid said with emphasis.  "We did."

            "It's _different_ from Dollet, sir.  Timber is an established Galbadian colony, occupied before any Garden existed.  Danger of retaliation is high.  And it will be us, not them, who will be branded aggressor.  They will see to it."

            "They will not know."

            The master administrator sighed and sat back.  "Timber is hopeless," he said.

            "It is an important Galbadian territory, and the one most fervently opposed to the regime.  We must aid it when we can."

            "There is no profit in this."

            "Consider it an investment."

            "You say it easily."  The master administrator sounded fatigued.  "You aren't the one who has to sell it all to Norg."

            "It is a small operation."

            The master administrator regarded the papers on the desk.  Flipping to the last page, he wrote at the bottom.  He then rolled up the document and banded it.  "We shall see what happens," he said, rising.  

Cid rose after him, and they exchanged bows.  There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Cid said.

Xu stepped in and saluted the men.  "He is here, sir, as ordered," she informed.

"Thank you, Xu.  Please send him in."

"Yes, sir."

"I will likely talk to you again this afternoon, sir," the master administrator said.

            "I will be waiting.  Thank you for your patience."

            He took leave just as Squall entered the office.  Holding the door open for the master administrator, the young SeeD bowed.  The bureaucrat acknowledged him with a glance and exited.

            "Good morning, Squall.  Come in and have a seat."  Cid motioned, smiling, to the chair his last visitor had vacated.

            "Good morning, sir," Squall saluted.  He seated himself in front of the headmaster's bulky wooden desk.  On it documents and portfolios of all sizes and colors were arrayed in such chaotic heaps that the mahogany underneath was hardly visible.              

            Cid grinned embarrassedly.  "I'm sorry, son, but allow me a minute to exhume my desk before we talk."  He began to stack the papers into neater but no less haphazard piles.  "Things came up unexpectedly, and I've been busy this morning.  I just know Xu will not be happy with me today, tidying up all this mess."

            "Yes, sir."

            Squall looked about the office.  He seldom saw it, and the occasions when he talked alone with the headmaster in it were still rarer.  As always the room was sunlit through the glass ceiling; it was situated at the very top of the conic building.  Here the headmaster of Balamb Garden worked and resided.  It was his exclusive domain, and the place abounded with reminders of Cid.  Everything from the abundance of wide-branched plants to the dusty paintings on the wall, the distinct ties and jackets hanging from the coat rack, and even the smell of the air proclaimed the quarters' sole occupant.  

            "I didn't get to speak to you much at the ball.  Did you have a good time?" Cid asked as he shoved a handful of documents into a wall safe behind the desk.

            "Yes, sir," Squall said to the older man who had his back turned to him.  On the desk, a tiny square frame of bronze among the office paraphernalia caught his eyes.

            "So, Squall."  Cid settled into his chair.  "How has it been for you, the first week as a member of SeeD?"

            "Not much has happened, sir.  I've enrolled in some seminars.  I have been training much."

            "You sound somewhat bored."

            "Not at all, sir."

            "No?"

            "No, sir."

"How so?"

"Well," the boy paused, "I just am not, sir.  I don't have to be occupied particularly to avoid boredom.  I can usually find something to do.  I've been training much," he repeated.

"That is a peculiar answer, from a young man like you," Cid said, curious.  "I imagine Seifer, for instance, would have been howling by now for an excuse to get off the island."

Cid observed Squall's reaction.  He betrayed none and did not say anything.

"I know things were never very smooth between you two," the headmaster added.  "But I had hoped that he would pass the field exam alongside the rest of you this time round.  He'll be nineteen in no time, you see.  He can't afford to go on being a rogue cadet for much longer.  Have you seen how he is lately?"

"He hasn't bothered me since Dollet."  Squall coughed lightly.  "Sir, did you call for me to discuss Seifer Almasy?"

"Oh, no.  Pardon me, Squall," Cid chuckled.  "It's a bad habit of mine—of anyone, really, that is laden with many concerns at once.  I tend to let my talks wander."

The SeeD nodded, and waited for him to go on.

"Well, then," Cid resumed, "I notice on your papers, Squall, that you hardly ever leave Balamb, even during breaks.  In fact, Dollet was the first foreign soil you saw in almost two years, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Squall answered.

"Is there some reason for your reluctance to travel?"

"There is no reluctance, sir.  It's only that I have no ties outside the Garden."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, sir."

"You see, Squall."  Cid considered his words.  "The critical margin between an officer of SeeD and a trainee lies in that the former makes the globe his field.  We dispatch SeeDs to distant corners of the earth in the assurance that they will discharge their duties abroad with equal competence and judiciousness as they were inside the walls of the Garden."

"I understand, sir."

"I have the highest of hopes for your future with us."

"I understand, sir.  Is it a mission?"

"Nothing is certain yet," Cid replied, holding up a hand.  "As I have told you, this is only an overdue talk that I've been meaning to have with you.  But things have come up unexpectedly.  I want you to know that you may be asked to embark on the path of a true SeeD without the time to build much field experience first."

"I understand, sir," Squall repeated.  In actuality Cid's talk had more than slightly mystified him.  The boy did not let it on.  The headmaster would explain himself when he felt the need for it.

"I am not trying to alarm you, Squall.  Just… be prepared for any eventuality."  Cid winced at his own words.  "Goodness, I'm not being very reassuring, am I?"

"That's all right, sir.  Be prepared—I understand perfectly."

"I'm sure you do.  Now then, what did you really think of the battle in Dollet?  You already told me," he smiled, "that it was a different sort of challenge.  Different, but not too daunting, I should think?"

"It was reasonable."

"And the enemies?"

"They were only foot soldiers.  Most of the time," Squall added, thinking of the spider.

"In combat, certainly, your squad was unmatched.  You couldn't help what happened with the Galbadian mobile craft, unfortunately."

"I hope to be able to handle such an enemy in near future."

There was a resolve in his statement that surprised the headmaster.  A hint of emotion had accentuated his monotone momentarily.  Cid sat back in his chair and studied the boy's face.  It remained impassive. 

"You desire strength, Squall," he observed.  "What other aspirations might you have?"

Squall took a minute before answering.   "I will carry out the Garden's orders," he said.

"And?"

"That is all, sir.  I will be a SeeD."

"That you will."  Cid looked down, nodding.  "That you will.  Well, Squall, I thank you for coming.  Good day—oh, wait; just one more thing before you go."  He arose and opened the cabinet behind him.  He stooped to reach something deep therein, rummaging through the articles inside.  

Squall's gaze fell once again on the bronze frame on the desk.  It held the picture of a dark-haired woman.  He had not noticed it before.  Though he was far from being a frequent visitor to the headmaster's office, the portrait struck him as an oddly incongruous presence.

"Here it is," said Cid.  He placed a rudely cloth-wrapped package on the desk.  "This is for you.  It's a gift from me."

Squall eyed it questioningly.  "What is it, sir?" 

"It's a lantern.  A very old one."

Squall waited for elaboration from the older man; none came.  He took the package in his hands and fathomed its weight.  He paused.  

"You feel it," Cid noted.

"Is it sealed?"

"To unseal it temporarily, you only need to light the lantern." 

"Why only temporarily, sir?"

"You will know when you light it.  I recommend a warm-up beforehand, however.  Good day, Squall.  We may speak again soon.  Please tell Xu to come in on your way out."

Squall stood to salute the headmaster and left, the package tucked under his arm.  Xu entered shortly.

"Did you want these, headmaster?" she said, producing a pair of hefty files.

"You know it.  Thank you."

"You are welcome, sir."  She handed them to him.  "They are perfectly sorted.  I don't expect much, sir, but do try at least to keep the pages in the right files—these are _personal_ files."

"All right, all right." 

"How was the interview, sir?  The boy is something curious, isn't he?"

Cid stretched back in his seat.  "He's inscrutable.  I'm thinking that I've left him that way for too long."

"I know he's a project of yours, like Seifer," Xu noted with amusement, folding her arms. "You just never got to talk to him much because he hasn't been as big a troublemaker as Seifer."

"Yes.  Well," he sighed, "Seifer _is_ Squall's trouble, it seems.  I don't know what you will say to this, Xu, but I was responsible for their being assigned together in Dollet."

"Is that true?" she said, genuinely surprised.  "That's a revelation, sir.  What did you intend to achieve?"

"Well, I figured Squall would pass regardless."  He tapped on the desk with a finger.  "I couldn't be so sure of Seifer.  I thought, perhaps, if I put them together, their combined strength would ensure that their squad excelled—in battle if nothing else."

"And Seifer, being the captain, would have been credited with the squad's success," she followed.

"As it turned out, his squad did neutralize more Galbadians than any others, but…"

Xu shook her head.  "Seifer's a misfit."

"He deserves attention.  He will become valuable to the Garden."

"Valuable…  Perhaps, sir.  I just hope he will become worthy of the Garden as well."

            "I share that hope, Xu."            

Adjusting his reading glasses, Cid opened the first of the files she had brought.  She moved to leave the office, but then paused at the doorway.

"You are thinking of dispatching them together," she said.

"What's that?"  He looked up from reading.

"The files, sir.  You plan to send them as a team."

"I am considering it."

"I don't mean to be over the line, headmaster—but why not send more seasoned officers?"

"Because, Xu," Cid replied, meeting her eyes over the rim of the spectacles, "their inexperience demands that they _become_ experienced as expeditiously as possible."

Xu reflected on the answer for a moment.  "I'll say this much, headmaster," she said before exiting.  "If one were to dwell on inscrutability, you are—with all due respect—far ahead of anyone at Balamb Garden."

"It comes with the job, I'm afraid."

Author's Notes

1. I write for your reviews.  I mean it.  Please tell me what you think of this chapter.

2. If you want to be notified of updates in future, say so in a review slot.  Don't forget to add your e-mail address.

3. How do you like my Cid?  I think he's a cool if unjustly downplayed minor character.  As you no doubt noticed, he will be neither downplayed nor quite so minor in my reinterpretation. :)

4. Next chapter will see the return of Squall's narrative.  Just to warn you all.


	20. Mission

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates 

**By PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**20. Mission**

            Light and haze, colors muted by darkness, and the images… they jump at me only to back away, sometimes in turns, and sometimes in grotesque blend—I am helpless to resist the torrent of impressions.

            I fly, I am taken, through a cavern of glowing crystal—

            Through a city of night, of monuments and soldiers on the streets—

            Then to another city, of radiant, unearthly splendor—

            And now a hillside village, with quaint brick houses beyond the pasture, a dancing ground for dandelions swaying in the winds—

            Through them all, a voice, calling—

            _Laguna, where are you?  Laguna…_

            Laguna.  Who is…?

            _…Squall?_

            …

            _Squall!_

            Then I awaken.

            I grow aware of the pressure of the eyelids, of my trunk and limbs resting limply on the bed.  I open my eyes to behold the drab pattern of the ceiling.

            I trudge to the table for the water pitcher.  After a drink, I put on the jacket hanging from the chair.  It is still dark outside, but I don't feel like going back to bed.

            This is the third time since the night of graduation that the dream has plagued my sleep.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Two days after the meeting with the headmaster, I am ordered to forgo my morning schedule and report to a briefing room on the second floor.  I have been expecting something like this.  The headmaster and a master faculty member wait in the room, also something I've expected.  What I have not foreseen is finding Selphie there as well.  She waves from her seat.

            "Morning, Squall.  How have you been?"

            "Did they call you up here, too?"

            "Why else would I be here?"

            "Be seated.  We will begin in a few minutes," the master faculty says.

            "What happened to your hand?" Selphie inquires as I sit down, noting my bandaged left hand.  I fold my arms.

"An accident.  I was training."

            I catch the headmaster's smirk across the room, and I know he has guessed the real reason that I sport the dressing, which extends up to the elbow under the uniform sleeve.

            "…One more minute," the master faculty says, looking at the wall clock.  We are expecting more people, it seems.

            The door opens to admit Zell Dincht.

            "Hey, guys.  Haven't seen you two much since the commencement evening."

            Zell and Selphie exchange pleasantries while I ponder on the occasion that has brought us together.  I have a pretty good idea.  It offers a troubling prospect.

            Zell leans toward me, voice low.  "Squall, I hear you got whooped again.  You put yourself through a lot, don't you?"

            "You are keen on rumors," I say.  I keep my arms folded.

            "Come on, man—was it Seifer again?"

            "No."

            "They ganged up on you, then.  You know, his sidekick buddies?"

            "It was no one.  I was training."

            He sneers knowingly.  "That's what you told me the last time."

            The master faculty steps in front of us.  "Let us begin.  This meeting will be quite short, so pay close attention.  Headmaster Kramer?"

            The headmaster nods.  "Good morning, SeeDs.  To delve straight into the matter, I have called you here to announce that you are being sent on a mission.  No other officers will be joining you, so I don't have to stress that close teamwork is imperative, more so than usual.  I know very well that this is the first mission as members of SeeD for all of you.  Having said that, I am confident that you will be up to the challenge.

            "I will not reveal any particulars at this time, beyond that you leave Balamb tonight via the Intercontinental Express.  You are to assemble at the front foyer at 2400 hours, at which time you will receive the order proper.  Your regular daily schedule is hereby canceled.  Inform any necessary parties of your impending absence.  Pack any personal essentials, but limit the baggage to minimum.  Make certain to carry nothing that can identify you or the Garden.  That means casual dress.  You are free until midnight.

            "That is all.  Any questions?"  He waits a moment.  "Then you are dismissed."

            We rise to salute the officials and file out of the room.  Zell clenches a fist with dramatic flourish when we are back on the hall.

            "All right, my first mission!"

            "It's so weird that we are being sent together again," Selphie says.

            Zell shrugs indifferently.  "They must've really liked our performance in Dollet."

            I just wonder about that.  "I'll see you both later," I say, taking leave of them.

            "You're just leaving like that?" Selphie says.

            I turn back.  "What do you mean?"

            "Shouldn't we, I don't know, get together and prepare for the mission or something?  We still have a whole day."

            "What is the mission?"

            She makes a face at me.  "I don't know yet, naturally."

            "We'll discuss preparations when we know.  See you both at midnight."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            Dr. Kadowaki is engrossed in a card game all by herself when I knock on the door of the infirmary.

            "Good morning… oh, it's you," she says, looking up.  "And here I thought it'd be at least two days before you reopened the wound.  What's the excuse this time?"

            "I didn't reopen it."  I show her the still-dressed arm as proof.  "I came by to see if the supplies were ready.  I know I only requested them yesterday, but I leave on a mission tonight, and so…"

            "A mission, already?"  The doctor gathers the stack of cards and puts it aside.  "All right, let's see first how the wound is doing.  Have a seat."  From a desk drawer she grabs a pair of disposable gloves.  I grimace.

            "It's fine.  It hasn't bothered me all morning.  But about the items—"

            "Child, it's my job to see that you are in a fit condition for field assignment.  Shall I recommend to the headmaster that you be excused from this operation?"

            I sit myself down and roll up the sleeve for the doctor.  She unwraps the binding, revealing the three red parallel tracks that run up my left forearm.  They still look vicious, but not half as swollen or raw as before.

            "Oh, it's worked better than I thought.  Good," she says.  "Have you been casting curative spells regularly?"

            "Just about every hour.  It still doesn't do much."

            "You should keep at it.  I think it will fade in a couple of days.  Wait here a minute.  I'm going to dress the wound again."

            The doctor disappears into the back room and returns with a glass bottle containing burgundy-hued liquid.  With it she soaks a strip of gauze, which she lays over the wound.  The liquid feels cold and thick on the skin, and a foul odor emanates from it.  I steal a glance at the undecipherable label on the bottle—just one of hundreds of unorthodox remedial articles in the doctor's eclectic collection, for which she is well known.  For what it's worth, her stuff works pretty well.

            "So they're already sending you off, hmm?" she asks, hands busy.

            "Yes."

            "I suppose you will be gone awhile.  Does Quistis know?"

            "She isn't my instructor anymore."

            "Oh, yes, that's right.  I've forgotten.  The poor dear—she hasn't dropped by in some time, you see."  She wraps the bandage around the forearm.  "Well, then," she says, taping up the bandage, "I'm going to give you some of this salve, to be used until the wound heals completely.  Now, you said that you weren't able to tame the fellow that did this."

            "Right."

            "I assume you will be trying your luck again sometime soon."

            "Yes."

            "Are you going to do it while you're away?"

            "Possibly.  I don't know when we'll return."

            "In that case I am giving you two bottles."

            "It smells terrible."

            Dr. Kadowaki grins.  "What did you expect from the witch-doctor?  Bear it like a SeeD.  Now, as to the things you asked for."  

She takes off the gloves and opens one of the many labeled cabinets by the wall to retrieve a box.  Opening it, she produces a utility belt and unrolls it on her desk.  Tiny pouches line up along the black strap.

"Thirty compressed capsules in total—eight restorative potions, eight anti-status remedies, eight dispel solutions, and six electrolyte concentrates for the GF's.  There are enough extras for three full restocks."

            "That should be plenty.  Thank you."

            "If you want any use out of these, be sure to remember which are which.  Don't get the color codes mixed up when you replace them.  Oh, and I should mention that not busting them in combat really helps."

            "All right."

            Nodding, Dr. Kadowaki puts the belt back in the case.  She pushes it towards me.

            "So who are going with you on this mission?"

            "Zell Dincht, and the Tilmitt girl—the transferee," I answer as I button up the sleeve.

            "Oh, my… that's it?"  The doctor's gray eyebrows climb her forehead.  "What could that man be thinking, teaming up three greenhorns together?"

            I opt to dismiss the remark.

            "Hmm… that Zell is almost as accident-prone as you are.  I had better fix another kit for your team.  When do you leave?"

            "At midnight."

            "I'll pass something along to you by then.  Do you need anything else?"

            "This should do.  Thank you."  I take the supply box and get up.

            "Good luck on your mission.  You'd better not show up on a stretcher the next time I see you."

            "I'll try, ma'am."

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            As a custom, SeeDs are dispatched late at night regardless of the mission's level of secrecy.  It is to prevent their departure from creating a disturbance in the Garden community, and also to ensure that the leave-taking does not become a public occasion.  The halls are deathly silent after curfew.  Only a few figures stand grouped together at the lobby when I make my way over to it.  Curiously enough the headmaster himself is present, in addition to a couple of master faculty members.  Next to him Zell half squats on an enormous duffle bag, attired in an extraordinarily loose pair of blue denims.  I set down my own baggage and join them.

            "Is that for your sword?"  Zell points to the silver-rimmed black case that contains the gunblade.

            "Yes."

            "_Neat!_  That's some kind of a griffin, right?" he says, inspecting the emblem on the lid.

            "Yeah, sure."

            Evidently charmed by the symbol, he goes on to discuss the aesthetics of the winged creature, and I tune him out.  Selphie arrives in a bit.  With her bright yellow dress and backpack, she looks like she's going on a vacation.

            "We are ready, it seems," the headmaster says after greetings are exchanged.  "I trust you haven't forgotten anything, and you've all said farewell to friends."

            We reply in the affirmative.

            "Good.  Before I give you the order, I need you all to relinquish your combat equipments for the time being.  They will be shipped separately on the train so that the boarding process will be less conspicuous."

            When the weapons have been hauled away, the headmaster faces us again.  "Now then, here is your order for the mission."

            We stand erect and alert.  The headmaster takes a large envelope from a master faculty member's hands.

            "SeeD officers Zell Dincht, Squall Leonhart, and Selphie Tilmitt: Balamb Garden hereby appoints you to execute a mission in accordance with the contractual terms agreed upon by SeeD and its hiring party.  Squall, you are appointed the leader of the team.  Step forward to accept the order."

            I do, and the headmaster presents me with the envelope.

            "Do not open the order until you are outside the Garden.  It is your responsibility to coordinate the team to carry out the order successfully.  Now then," he addresses the team, "your transport to the station is at the parking lot.  Until the next time we meet, I wish you all the best of luck."

            He returns our salute and leaves with the master faculty.  The three of us are left alone in the empty lobby.

            "Get your things.  Let's go," I say.

            We move out.  A cadet in street clothes stands by with a civilian vehicle at the parking lot.  He salutes us smartly.

            "Destination, sir?"

            "Balamb.  Drop us off at the train station," I tell him.

            "Yes, sir."

            The car starts without delay when we enter the passenger compartment.  In a minute we are out of the building, and soon the Garden is a glow in the back window of the car.

            "I wonder when we'll be coming back," Zell mumbles, gazing out at the compound.  "That kinda thought puts me in a meditative mood—not a good thing."

            "Can we open the order now?" Selphie asks me.

            "I don't think we should yet, with the driver in the car."

            Zell gestures to the intercom switch by the seat.  "He can't hear us.  Let's see what the order is."

            I acquiesce.  Inside the envelope are three train tickets, a stationery bearing the headmaster's seal, and another, smaller envelope.  Stamped words on the second envelope read:  NOT TO BE OPENED UNTIL AUTHORIZED.  I run through the content of the stationery quickly.

            "What's it say?" Selphie asks, sitting closer.

            I read the following to the others.

            "You are instructed to board Intercontinental Express 118 leaving Balamb Station at 0215AM on the 28th and arriving at Timber Central Station at 1120AM.  Refer to the enclosed tickets for travel information.

            "Your mission is to assist an underground faction headquartered in Timber, which calls itself Forest Owls.  A representative of the hiring party will meet you at Timber Central Station.  Approach a man who has a black handkerchief tied to his right wrist.  He will say to you, 'The forests of Timber sure have changed.'  You are to reply, 'But the owls are still around.'  He will conduct you to Forest Owls' headquarter.  Once there, you are to open the enclosed envelope and verify the terms of the contract therein with the leader of Forest Owls.  After you have done so, it is your mission to follow the hiring party's orders to your fullest ability within the boundaries of the contract.  For all emergency circumstances not properly covered by the contract, consult Garden Code whenever applicable and your best discretion.

            "That's all for now," I tell them, putting the document back in the envelope.

            "Timber, huh?" Zell says.

            "I heard it's a lovely place—lives up to the name," Selphie says.  "I'm glad I'm not going to someplace totally dreary.  Squall, can I see my ticket?"  I hand it to her.  She studies it with a gleeful expression.  "Almost ten hours on the fastest train in the world…  Now this I'm _really_ looking forward to; I love trains."

            "That's ten hours of underground scenery for you," Zell says, sounding less than captivated with the idea.  "Nothing but a black tunnel all the way.  I for one will be sleeping."

            "I don't care.  Hey… this ticket is a transfer pass.  Says here we are from 'Fisherman's Horizon.'"

            "The old western terminal of the Intercontinental Express railway," I explain.  "Must be to conceal our place of origin."

            Before long, the driver informs us via the intercom that we are nearing the town.  We get off at the entrance to the station.  At his request I permit Zell to pay Mrs. Dincht a quick late night visit before proceeding to "outdoor class," as he puts it.  The team regroups at the stations' lobby and heads to the platform after having the baggage checked.  The train's sleek bulk rests along the platform, emitting soft mechanical hums and whistles.  A conductor collects our tickets in exchange for the keys to our cabins.  We board as the speaker overhead announces a half-hour until departure.

            The Garden has reserved first class rooms for us; SeeD is no small business, and it is as lavish as it is expensive.  The cabin Zell and I are to occupy is richly furnished and decorated despite the space constraint.  Zell throws himself onto the opulent couch with a happy laugh.

            "Let others say what they will.  Being a SeeD rocks!" he declares.      

"Which bunk are you using?"

            "Huh?  Oh, the one by the window's fine.  Thanks."

            I hang my jacket and sit on the bed to unbuckle my boots.  The morning promises to be busy; I should go to sleep soon.

            Not bothering to knock first, Selphie bursts into the cabin.  Thrill is plain on her face.  "This train is phenomenal—my room's phenomenal!  I mean it's nothing like what I traveled in from Trabia.  It pays to be a SeeD!"

            "The sentiment is most heartily shared," Zell says.  He stretches luxuriously on the couch, his head thrown back.

            "Oh, Squall?  This was on the night table.  It's for you."  Selphie holds up a wrapped package.  Attached to it is a delivery note with my name, from the train staff.

            "What is it?" Zell asks.

            "Medicines—from Dr. Kadowaki."  I read the memo inside the box full of vials.  

            _Squall: These are for your teammates.  They're the same as what I gave you this morning, with the exception of the red capsules with blue tops, labeled 421.  It's a new concoction I've synthesized for burn wounds.  I haven't field-tested it yet, so should you use it, tell me later how well it works.  Don't be in a rush to be my guinea pig, however.  Best wishes.  Quistis sends her regards.  –Ana Kadowaki._

            "She is such a nice lady," Selphie remarks from behind, making me jump a little.  She has snuck onto the bed and read the message over my shoulder.  I scowl and shoo her off the mattress.  Placing the medicine chest next to the other belongings, I lie down on the sheets.  The glare of the light on the ceiling pricks my eyes, and I put an arm over them.

            "You're going to sleep now?" Selphie says.

            "As soon as the train starts moving."

            "Come on, so soon?"

            I lift the arm to look at her.  "It's two in the morning."

            "Aw, boss, it's our first mission.  Let's talk a bit."

            "A mission, not a pleasure trip.  And don't call me boss."

            "You're the team captain.  How do we address you?"

            "You already know my name."

            "I know!  I know!" Zell cries, raising his hand.  "We'll call him Scarface—nah, Stoneface!"

            "No, no—Stony-Squally!" Selphie rejoins.

            "I got better:  _Squarface_."

            They both explode in laughter, and stay at it for a long while.

            "Good to know you're enjoying the mission already," I say tartly.

            "Squarface!" Selphie gasps between guffaws.  "That just so perfect!  Captain Squarface it is, then."

            "Shut up."

            "Sorry, man," Zell says, still chortling, "but it's already set.  You gotta pay for that Chicken-whatever bit back in Dollet.  Hey, is anyone hungry?  I've got loads of goodies Mom packed for me…"

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            An hour and half later, I am still unable to sleep.  The train has entered the subterranean track and is running somewhere under the ocean floor.  The only thing visible outside the window is an unending series of dim fluorescent tubes that illuminates the tunnel.  Meanwhile Zell and Selphie are having the time of their lives, laid back comfortably on the cabin floor.  The carpet is littered with food and drink containers.  After Zell shared his snacks, Selphie—not to be outdone—brought in the stuff that her fellow committee members had given her at their farewell meeting.  The two have since managed to create a nice mess in a remarkably short period of time.  In resignation I recline on my bunk and munch on a biscuit Zell's mother baked, half listening to their animated talk.  Selphie has almost sold the festival committee idea to Zell, who appears to find himself cornered without an escape.

            "By the way, you guys know anything much about Timber?" he says at one point.

            "Don't change the subject," Selphie warns.  "So you're decent with a guitar.  That's just fine—we could use a guitar player.  C'mon, you don't think it'll be fun playing before a horde of admiring fans?"

            "Ah, well… I'm not much of, whatdaya call it, a public personality…"

            Overhearing, I snort all but unconsciously.

            "See?  Even Squall thinks that's bull," Selphie says, triumphant.  "I tell you, this will help you with a lot of things.  You'll be a star!  You'll be famous!  People will yield in line when you pick up food at the cafeteria!  You'll never have to rack your head over how to ask out that pretty girlfriend of yours!"

            "Wha, what're you talkin' about?" Zell screeches, taken aback.  "What girlfriend?  Whose?"

            "Hey, you two were practically glued together at the ball.  Don't even think about denying it."

            "That's not true.  I mean, we danced and all, sure—"

            "Uh, huh, for what—three, four songs in a row?  Your mom kept cutting meaningful glances at you two, if you know what I mean."

            "Really?  But, she didn't mention anything afterwards…"

            Selphie waves her hand dismissively.  "Your mom's too smart for that.  She'll wait a couple of months, and then tell you out of the blue to bring her home for dinner or something, and introduce her.  You didn't' introduce them to each other, did you?"

            "Ah, no…"

            "Thought so.  You think she's put it out of her concerns, right?  Wrong—she's just biding her time."

            "Geez, you really think she'll do that?"

            Selphie sits back and flexes her bare toes.  "Undoubtedly.  Why else would she keep quiet about it?  You're way too clueless—if you aren't a little more decisive, things will just happen around you without you having anything to do with them."  She leans forward in a mock gesture of confidentiality.  "Your mom said to me that night, you know, that she was glad a nice girl seemed to have taken a liking to you."

            "No kidding?" Zell says, leaning forward as well.  He's eating this up.

            "What's more, I saw them talking to each other when you weren't around."

            "No way!"

            "Look out, Zell boy—next thing you know, those two will have your wedding planned out before you even hear about it."

            Zell squints.  "You're making this up."

            "They'll have it planned down to the teaspoons," Selphie insists.

            "Get out of here.  I'm not listening to you anymore."

            "Down to the invitation design."

            "C'mon, quit teasing me."

            "I can't.  It's too much fun," she says, in all seriousness.  Then she breaks into a peal of laughter, and Zell makes a disgusted face.  "So," says the indefatigable Selphie, once she has brought her merriment under control, "how about it?  I can sign you up, right?"

            "Man, can't we give this topic a rest until we're back at the Garden?  We're on field duties."

            "Look who's talking about duties now," she quips, yawning.  "Well, it's getting late… and we'll be working in the morning.  Suppose I should go to bed."

            Get the facts straight, young lady—it's been late for a long time, and it already is morning.  I almost speak the words out loud.  Instead, I say to my blithe comrades, "They'll be expecting professionals, not sleepy-eyed youngsters.  Get some sleep.  I want us up and ready an hour before the meeting."

            "Yes, captain," Selphie says with a salute.  I do not comment on her use of the title.  A twinge of headache lingers near both my temples, and I just want to sleep.

            "What do you suppose these Forest Owls people are like?" Zell says.  "An underground group… Timber's supposed to be full of them.  I hope these guys know their stuff."

            "We know _our_ stuff.  It'll be all right," Selphie assures him.

            "You know what this means, don't you?  Going to Timber?" Zell says, leaning back on his hands.

            "What does it mean?" I ask.

            "That we'll be seeing our old pals Galbadians again."

            "Right; Timber is under Galbadian control…"  Selphie gathers up her knees and cocks her head.  "This group we're supposed to help—you think it's some sort of an anti-government militia?"

            "I'll bet," Zell replies.  "Timber's always been isolated thanks to the geography.  They liked doing things their own way—until eighteen years ago, when Galbadia invaded Timber.  Now there are a bunch of resistance factions fighting for independence.  I hear they're mostly pretty pathetic, though.  That's what worries me."

            "The Garden wouldn't have approved the contract unless they believed the mission was feasible," Selphie opines.  Putting a hand to her temple, she closes her eyes briefly as if holding back a pain.  "We just need to do the job and go home."

            "I agree.  Frankly I don't care for a place like Timber.  Hey, you all right?  You don't look too good."

            "Thanks a lot," Selphie says, darting a look at him.  "A word of advice, for your girlfriend's sake and your own: do not _ever_ tell a girl that she does not look good.  Next time, say along the line of 'you seem unwell.'  That said, I'm going to use your bathroom, if you boys don't mind."

            She gets up and trudges into the bathroom.  Zell narrows his eyes after her as the door closes.

            "Do all women come equipped with a temper at birth?  I was just asking."

            "You two weren't drinking anything alcoholic, were you?"  I survey the cans and bottles on the floor.  Perhaps that's what is bothering her.

            "Of course not.  I wouldn't be surprised, though, if she's had some earlier with her pals.  She seems like the type to throw a big farewell party."

            "We're turning out the lights when she comes out.  Why don't you clean up some of that mess?"

            "Will do, boss."

            He goes around the room collecting the leftovers of the night.  I fall back on the bed and rub my forehead, where the ache has settled and will not go away.

            "So, are you all right with this leader responsibility thing?" Zell asks me, a wastebasket in hands.  "I mean it's your first mission, too."

            "Besidse the silly names you two insist on calling me, I'm fine with it," I reply, closing my eyes.

            "Still, you have to be a little nervous."

            "It's like what she said: we'll do our job and go home."

            The bathroom door opens, and Selphie lurches forward.  We both turn to her in surprise.  She supports herself with a hand placed on the couch.  Her face is pale, and her eyelids are quivering.

            "Guys…" she speaks weakly.  "I'm… not feeling well… at all."

            I sit up on the bed.  "What's the matter?"

            "Drowsy… I… I can't…"

            She collapses on the couch.  Zell runs to her side, alarmed.

            "Hey, hey!  What the…"  He shakes her shoulder.  She remains still.  "…Sleeping?  Come on, this is the _men's_ cabin!  Go sleep in your own—ugh…?"

            The wastebasket drops from his hands, spilling its contents onto the floor.  Before I have the time to say anything, Zell himself sinks to his knees.

            "Wha-what is this…" he slurs.  He blinks, and then crumples on his side without another word.

            I get off the bunk to rush to them.  I am startled when my own knees buckle upon setting feet on the floor.  I barely hold myself from tumbling backward onto the mattress.  The headache is intense now, and growing.  The acute pain blurs into dizziness.  My vision mists up, the world fades away before me, and I can't stay on my feet…  Then, darkness descends.

            My last sensation is that of falling.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            How long has it been?

            I recover consciousness somewhat… and discover, to my wonderment, that I am back on my feet again.  I look about in a daze, beholding the dense green of the forest around me.  The sun, pouring through the branches, blinds my eyes.

            What is happening?

            Someone taps me on the shoulder.  "So which way is it, Laguna?"

            Laguna?

            I stand mutely staring at the dark complexion of the tall, lean man who has spoken.  Another figure moves at the corner of my vision.  A bearded giant, his head capped by a blue bandana, watches me.  Somewhere in my befuddled head, I note that both men are dressed in familiar Galbadian military uniforms.

            "What's up, Laguna?" the second man speaks.  "You got that look on your face again, partner."

            Laguna?

            _Laguna_…

Coming up next: The Three Musketeers

Author's notes

1. I post this story solely for your reviews.  Let me know what you think of it—any part of it.

2. If you want to be notified of future updates, tell me so in a review slot and leave your e-mail address.

3. Some thoughts on Squall's character, or rather where I'm going with it:  Squall should be distant rather than rude, although the former often manifests as the latter.  The two are different, and Squaresoft was not very discriminating in this regard.  An example is when Squall declines for no good reason to shake hands with Zone when he first meets Forest Owls, or when he blandly tells Quistis to go talk to a wall.  This kind of crudely dramatic displays of unfriendliness, which exist entirely "to get a point across," take away from the complexity of his character instead of enriching it.  Squall's hostility needs a believable façade.  It is more than possible to be civil and detached at once—and it makes sense that Squall should possess both qualities, since he was reared in a military environment that demands both strict courtesy and cold ruthlessness.  Keep this in mind when you see him acting somewhat out of line with the game script.

4. Unless someone gives me a really good reason to the contrary, I'm dropping Angelo from this version FFVIII.  She only shows up a couple of times in the story, excepting when Rinoa uses her limit break, which I thought was utterly silly.  The thing is, Angelo is understood to be at Rinoa's side the WHOLE time in the game, and yet she only appears in the script only three times or so.  I will have to invent Angelo's personality from scratch if I am to include her in this novel.  I also think her presence will be simply distracting, unless I come up with whole new plot devices that require the animal, and that'll prolong the writing process even more.  (I write very slowly, you must have noticed—it usually takes me 20+ hours in front of my computer to write up a chapter.)

PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com) 


	21. The Three Musketeers

Final Fantasy VIII: Vigil of the Fates

By PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)

21. The Three Musketeers

Ward cocked his bulky head and looked sideways at the slim man at his right  "Is he spacing out?" he said. 

"His pupils are wide as a saucepan… I'd say so," Kiros replied, narrowing his eyes.  He leaned in close to the subject of his scrutiny.  "Laguna?" he called.  "Hello, lieutenant?"

Laguna's blue eyes remained dull as they shifted in the direction of his addresser.  When he spoke, it was in a soft, almost hallucinatory monotone.  

"Who's Laguna?"

            Kiros and Ward stared at him.  Laguna stared back.  

Silence descended upon the three men.  

            "What did you say?" Kiros said.

            Laguna blinked then.  "Er… did I just say that out loud?" he said, shaking his head full of long umber locks.  His men stared at him once again.

            "My God," Ward breathed slowly, his body stone-still.  "It's happened.  He's gone around the bend."

            "Maintain calm, Corporal Zabac," Kiros said, eyes trained on the lieutenant.  "This is an emergency we were fated to deal with sooner or later."

            "Fated, maybe, Corporal Seagill," Ward returned.  "But hardly prepared." 

            "Quit it," Laguna said, annoyed.  He looked up and around, taking in the thick undergrowth that threatened to impose onto the narrow mountain path where they stood.  Frowning, he shrugged.  "I just thought I heard something…  Maybe it was just in my head."

            "He admits to hearing voices in his head," Kiros said grimly.

            "All right, Kiros," Ward said, "I'll restrain him.  You go for his sidearm."

"Will you quit that?" snapped Laguna.  "So I drifted for a second.  Don't you sometimes have an epiphany or something like that?  It happens, you know."

            Kiros folded his arms.  "Are you saying you just had an epiphany about who _you_ are?"

            "Sounds to me more like a mid-life crisis," Ward said.

            "And he only twenty-seven."

            "He's been through a lot."

            "Shut up," Laguna said.  He started along the grassy path, motioning to the men to follow.  "We're moving."      

"Which we were trying to bring up at the moment of your ill-timed revelation, lieutenant," Kiros said.  "Have you at last decided where we are going?"

"We're going where I say we're going," Laguna barked.

"Petulant," Kiros said as he fell in.

"Confess it, Laguna," Ward said from his position at the rear of the company.  "We're lost, and we aren't getting anywhere.  We'd be better off camping somewhere inconspicuous and wait till the radio link is back up."

"We are not lost," Laguna said.  "We're on the only road in the area, and we're heading north.  That's all there is to it.  We'll be back in civilization in no time."

"Assuming that we manage to survive the uncivilized local population," Kiros said.

"So we'll do some more wild hunting on the way," Laguna said with a flippant wave of his hand.

Ward grunted in distaste.  "God knows it's the only action we'll see on this damn excursion," he said harshly, readjusting the weight on his backside of the equipment pack.  Of the three men he carried the most, and the gear added to his already daunting size.  A great harpoon, its end wrapped in a leather sheath, hung from his shoulder next to the rifle.    

"How do you mean, Ward?" Laguna said, glancing back.

"I mean for once I'd like to get some real use out of all this stuff I'm breaking my back carrying.  I mean it'd be nice for a change if we got to fight some real enemies.  We _are_ here to fight a war, aren't we?"

"What do you expect me to do about it?" Laguna said.  He wiped his moist forehead with his sleeve.  Though the afternoon had begun to wane, the summer heat lingered unabated, clinging to every square inch of the skin.  "It ain't my fault that we weren't assigned to the frontline." 

"It ain't his fault, he says!" Ward cried.  "You know, sometimes I think you get us lost on purpose so you can slack off.  But that's probably overestimating your shrewdness."

Laguna sent a sour grin in the burly man's way.  "I appreciate your confidence in my integrity, Ward.  But come on now, would you rather be fighting an army of peasants and livestock keepers?"

"Sure as hell beats fighting livestock."

"You should have settled your moral compunction at home, Laguna," Kiros interjected.  "It only spawns trouble on the battlefield.  We are the living, perspiring proof of that."

"Let's keep a little optimism, boys," Laguna said.  "We can't be separated that far already."

Kiros sighed.  "Much as I hate to say this, my friend, you misjudge your capacity for misfortune.  We haven't seen our people for miles.  We haven't seen the _enemies_ for miles.  We're the only intelligent bipeds in this God-forsaken forest swarming with critters."

"I don't know, Kiros.  I'm kind of enjoying this place." 

"In that case, Ward and I are the only intelligent bipeds in this God-forsaken forest."

"Well spoken, Kiros," Ward said.

"No, honestly," Laguna said, laughing.  He lifted his gaze to the unending legion of pines that besieged them.  Majestic and soaring, they seemed to buttress the sky itself.  "Forests in Galbadia have to be parks compared to this.  Too bland to have a real flavor of the wild, you know what I mean?"

"They don't call it Timber for nothin'," Ward said.  "Nothing but woods and woods and still more woods.  And I'm lost in it and tired and stuck with a lieutenant who has epiphanies."

"We are not lost," Laguna insisted.  "We'll be out of here before dark.  You'll see—"

"Quiet!" Ward said sharply.  

Laguna and Kiros started and turned on their track to regard him.  His giant frame stooped in concentration, he was holding the receiver of the squad's sole radio unit close to his ear, and his other hand was intently adjusting the frequency dials.  "We've got incoming signals."

Laguna ran with Kiros to the corporal's side.  "Is it the others?"

"Shh."

Static noise grew louder from the speaker, interrupted momentarily by unintelligible jumble of sound barely recognizable as human voice.  The two noises continued in discordant tandem as though fighting for dominance.  Ward's fingers—one would have thought them too thick to be nimble—were busy on the row of tiny dials.  Suddenly, the voice was sharp and clear from the speaker.  "…Respond.  I repeat:  This is Timber Occupation H.Q.  Anyone from 2nd Squad, 5th Platoon, 4th Division, if reading please respond."

"Way to go, Ward!" Laguna cried, showering rough pats on the corporal's bandana-clad head.  "C'mon, lemme have the receiver."  

With an air of sullen acquiescence Ward relinquished the machine to the 

lieutenant.

"Yes, this is 2nd Squad and we read you clear," Laguna spoke into the receiver.  "Awfully glad to hear from you.  We've been trying to reach the headquarter ourselves with no success."

"Is this Lieutenant Laguna Loire speaking?" the voice said at the other end of the channel.

"That would be yours truly," Laguna said cheerfully.  Ward rolled his eyes at Kiros, who shrugged.           

"We've been trying to locate your company, lieutenant.  Eight more hours and you'd have been officially missing in action."

"Well, then we're found men now, aren't we?"

"Oh, brother," Ward groaned.  Laguna shot him a glare.  Switching on the cordless mode, he took the receiver and walked away from the men.

"Hey, you're wasting batteries," Ward said to the lieutenant's backside.

"You should be grateful—they'll be lighter for you to carry," Laguna shot back.

"Are all your men with you, lieutenant?" the voice said on the radio.

"Yes, they're both well and grumpy as expected," Laguna said.  He lowered his voice to just a notch above whisper.  "I'd sure appreciate it if you could get a reading on our position.  We've been a bit lost here."

"I heard that," came Kiros' shout from behind, and with it Ward's deep chuckle.  Laguna shot them another glare.

"Activate your homing radar, lieutenant," the voice said.  "The trees will interfere somewhat, but we should be able to locate you on the grids."

"That sounds excellent," Laguna said, turning back to the squad.  "Ward, the radar."

"Already on it," Ward replied.

"See, I told you.  We're home free now."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Come in, Lieutenant Loire," the radio buzzed again after a few minutes.  

Laguna snatched up the receiver.  Kiros and Ward huddled close behind to listen in.  "Loire here.  What do you have for us?"

"Sir, we've got you on the grids.  Write this down and consult your map.  The coordinate is N 14" 34' 28 by W 31" 23' 62.  This should place you near the eastern end of Roshfall Forest on the map.  Have you got that?"

"Kiros, are you getting this down?  Wait a second… yes, I got it.  Roshfall Forest," Laguna said, studying the map the corporal held up for him.

"That's good nine miles off the route.  Even for you this is impressive," Kiros said.

"We don't have any major units near you, sir," buzzed the radio.  "But a patrol unit is posted at approximately two miles to the northwest, by Obel Lake.  I've informed them to hold their position and wait for you.  Keep your link open and watch for friendly frequency as you move.  The patrollers will transport you to the nearest base where you can take the train to Deling City." 

"Whoa, whoa, hold for a second," Laguna said.  "Maybe I didn't hear you right.  Did you say Deling City?"

"Yes, sir.  The 4th Division was ordered home two days ago.  Your squad are the last three men in the division still left in Timber—excluding those killed in action, of course."

"Oh," Laguna said.  

Ward clapped his hand to his forehead.  "Good going, Laguna!  I can't believe this.  We were supposed to be home _yesterday_."

"Thanks much for the direction," Laguna said into the receiver.  "We'll… uh, proceed as advised.  Thanks again.  I don't know who you are, but buy yourself a drink on me at the pub, all right?"  

When the channel was terminated, Laguna faced his men.  He coughed lightly.  "Well, then, gentlemen," he declared, "we're going home."

            The announcement was met with the cold gaze of his companions.  

"What's with that look?  Come on, it's an _honor_ to be the last to pull out of an enemy territory.  Didn't you learn that in training?"__

"All right, Kiros," Ward breathed, "I'll restrain him.  You go for—"      

"Oh, shut up, Ward.  Let's get moving," Laguna said, marching off.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Laguna halted.  "Wait, I see something."  

He spied the western woods through his binoculars.  The pines were behind them, and they now trod a sea of grass that buried them up to the chest.  Their each step was a weary struggle against vegetation.  The insects chirped all around them, their songs fused into an amalgam without melody.    

"What is it?" said Kiros.

"A vehicle.  One of ours," Laguna replied.  "I can see it just beyond the meadow.  We've made it, boys."

"You see anyone?" Ward asked.

"No.  I can only see the top half of the car."

Ward consulted the radio.  "Their channel is open."

"That's strange," Kiros said.  "They should have detected our signal.  Why aren't they talking to us?"

"Ward, call them up," Laguna said.

"This is Corporal Ward Zabac of 2nd Squad, 5th Platoon, 4th Division," Ward spoke into the machine.  "We're approaching your unit.  Please respond, over."

The three men listened to the speaker for a long interval.  It remained silent.

"I repeat: This is Corporal Ward Zabac of 2nd Squad, 5th Platoon, 4th Division.  We believe you've been notified of our arrival.  Please respond, over."

No reply came.  Ward looked at the others questioningly.

"What do you think?"

"Let's go.  Be on your guard," Laguna said.  He took up the machine gun that had been slung on his shoulder.  Ward and Kiros followed suit.

The squad continued across the grassland.  Soon they arrived at the clearing where the small armored vehicle stood.  The clearing was ended by a wall of gray bluff that arced like an amphitheater.  A boulder pushed up tall from the red earth, and the car's distorted front bumper was flush against it.  The steel hatch at the top was open.  There was no other sign of the patrol unit.  

"Oh, no," Laguna said, surveying the site.  "Do you see anyone around?"

"No," Kiros answered.

"Stay close to the vehicle.  Ward, check the inside."

"Affirmative."

"They must have been ambushed," Laguna said to Kiros while they investigated the immediate vicinity of the car.  "But why are there no bodies?"

"They might have been captured."

"All of them?"

"Or they might have retreated on foot.  Perhaps the car is inoperable."

"The car is fine—or at least it looks that way," Ward informed them as he climbed out of the vehicle.  "Can't say the same for the chap who used to drive it, though."

"What happened to him?" asked Laguna.

"I don't know.  But he left a pint of his blood in the driver's seat."  

"Crap."

"Laguna," Kiros called from the other side of the car.  He gestured to the border of the grassland they had just left behind.  A familiar machine gun was on the ground.  Kiros retrieved it for the others' inspection.  The weapon was almost fully loaded.

"Is this blood?" Laguna said, touching the dark, irregular stripes on the barrel and the handle.  His fingertips were red when he withdrew them.

"So it would seem," Ward said.

"Look, there's another one."  Kiros pointed to the root of a tree a few dozen yards away.  

"What kind of enemies take the bodies but leave the rifles—and the car?" Laguna said.

Kiros considered for a second.  "The uncivilized kind," he said.

"What do we do?" Ward asked.

"I don't think there's any question," Kiros replied.  "The car appears intact.  We drive it out of here immediately."

Laguna glanced about, brows gathered into a frown.  "There might be survivors."

"No, Laguna," Kiros said quickly.

"We must look for them."

"Laguna, this wasn't an assault—it was a hunt.  Do you understand?  Whatever did this came specifically for the meat.  Hence the absence of the bodies, and also why they wouldn't have left anyone alive."

"You think this was a group effort," Ward said.

"The unit likely had at least four troops.  It would have taken multiple predators—large ones—to remove them all from the site.  Yes, I believe it was a coordinated attack."

Laguna gazed out into the forest.  "I don't know what these things are.  But we can't just leave men behind without determining what happened to them with reasonable certainty."

"I understand what you're thinking," Kiros said, "but what could we three do that the other men couldn't?  The creatures must be back in their lair with the kills."

"Fat chance finding that," Ward said.

Laguna thought while his men waited.  He sighed.  "All right.  Ward, contact the H.Q.  Report the casualties and inform them that we're pulling out."

"I'll use the radio in the car.  It'll be quicker," the corporal said, walking back to the vehicle.

Laguna sauntered restlessly while Ward worked in the car.  His eyes wandered across the scenery, moving from the meadow to the trees to the slanted bluff, whose rows of jagged protrusions folded upon one another to create the impression of a demolished building full of sharp, quiet shadows.  "I just don't feel right about this," he said to Kiros. 

Stretching his long legs on a flat rock, the olive-complexioned corporal drank from a canteen.  "We've been telling you that for the past week, as I recall."

"Real funny, Kiros."

"You wanna put it to a vote which of us is the funny one?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come, my man, you're practically the division mascot.  The men will be happy to know you made it home alive, I'm sure.  Bring the fun back to the army, you know?"

"Home," Laguna murmured.

"It's been over three months.  We're lucky—I know men who've been stuck here for over half a year."

"It's madness," Laguna said with a frustrated groan.  "It's not enough for the ass of a general that he's got the country in his palm and renamed the capital after himself.  No, he has to go and bully a country of farmers so he can take over the whole damn continent.  We should _all_ pack up and go home."

Kiros took another swig.  "Good to know you look forward to the trip, lieutenant."

"Ahhh…. I'm not sure how to feel about going home," Laguna said, fiddling with his weapon.  "It hasn't been a pleasant neighborhood since Deling became the guy on the block."

"The piano girl's there, though."

"Watch it there, fella."

"All right, all right.  But a hundred gil says I know where you'll be headed the moment we get off the train."  

"Julia…"  Laguna scratched his jaws and looked away.  "Gee, it _has_ been three months, hasn't it?  The idea doesn't really get to you until you start thinking about the people you're gonna be seeing again…"  His sentence drifted off, and he was quiet.

"Don't wrack your poor head over a pickup line you'll never get to use, Laguna," Kiros said, replacing the canteen at his side.  "Who knows, maybe she isn't available anymore." 

"Kiros," Laguna said sharply.

"All right, all right, all right."

"Kiros," Laguna called again.  Kiros looked up.  The lieutenant's gaze, alert and intent, was somewhere high on the precipice.  Levels upon levels of uneven rocky platforms, not unlike the one he sat on, were piled towards the sky.  Meandering down from one such platform was a thin strip of cherry-red, stark against the backdrop of gray.  Following the band's descent, Kiros saw that it ended at the bottom of the boulder, where it formed a succession of crimson beads that dropped down below.  A puddle formed on the stony surface beneath.

Kiros rose from his makeshift seat.  He retraced the trickle to the source.  The area was shadowed by a jutting boulder still higher up.  He squinted.  He turned next to the lieutenant, who was examining the same spot through binoculars.

"Is that…?"

"A boot tip," Laguna said.  He dropped the binoculars and the rifle.  Scrambling onto the conglomeration of rocks, he began to climb.  "Get Ward, Kiros."

"Wait, Laguna!" Kiros called after him.  "He's probably dead—"

"But then he might not be.  You go and get Ward."

Kiros sprinted off.  Laguna continued the climb.  

"Ward!"  Not waiting for Ward to open the back door, Kiros leapt onto the armored car.  "Ward, start the engine!" he yelled into the opening of the top hatch.    

Ward's head appeared through the roof.  "Huh?"

"We've got someone up the cliff.  If he's alive we'll need to move him into the car."

"Where's Laguna?"

Kiros pointed to Laguna's distant figure, engaged in his laborious task.

"What the… what were you thinking letting that fool do that?  With his luck he's gonna break his neck!"

"Start the car."

Ward lowered himself down to the driver's seat.  As the machine sputtered to life Kiros, perched atop the roof, peered inside.  Blood was spattered across the seats, the dashboard, and the floor.  The stain was smudged thin on the narrow windshield where Ward had wiped most of it away.

"My God."

"I know," Ward said, backing the vehicle away from the boulder it had crashed into.  He turned the car around smoothly and started towards the bluff.        

"What did this?" 

The car screeched to an abrupt halt.  Kiros nearly fell off, only avoiding it by clutching the hatch.  

"What the hell!" Kiros cried.  "Ward, what was that!"

"Kiros, get in here!" came Ward's voice.  

"What's wrong…"  He stopped the sentence unfinished.  He saw the cause of his friend's panic.  Squarely in the path of the vehicle was the crouching form of a creature on four.  It was nearly as large as a bear, but with scales in place of fur, and its eyes shone with reptilian glint.  Shoulders hunched and head lowered, the creature appeared to be poised for a dash.  Only its tail wagged slowly from side to side in a menacing swing.  It was long, and sharp as a scorpion's.

"Shit," Kiros said before he jumped into the car.  He closed the hatch above him.

Ward looked out the window at the creature that remained motionless.  "It's one of them, isn't it?"

"I'd say it's an excellent suspect.  What's it doing?"

"Just staring right at us.  Wait, it's moving.  It's coming closer."

The creature ambled unhurriedly to the vehicle.  Its front paws grasped the bumper, and it raised itself on hind legs so that it was looking directly into the car.  The soldiers matched gaze with the creature, with only the windshield and a few scant feet of distance between them.  A forked tongue snaked out of its jaws and licked the dusty glass.  An orderly row of sharp teeth gleamed dull.  They were flanked by a pair of hooked tusks.

"I think I recognize it," Kiros said over Ward's shoulder.  "It's supposed to be called, er…"

The creature's black claw slammed against the glass.  Kiros jumped back.  The glass held, unscathed.  

"I'll be real impressed if you break through that, pal," Ward said.

"We don't have much room for complacency.  Laguna's still out there."

Ward nodded.  "Hold on, I'll just run this critter over flat."

The car lurched forward violently.  The creature did not vanish under the steel mass as Ward had intended.  Instead, it lifted the rest of its body effortlessly onto the car.  Its bulk now covered the windshield.

"Damn it," Ward swore.  "We gotta shake it off."

The creature then moved again, and the windshield was clear.  It was now out of their sight entirely.

"Where did it go?" Kiros said.

Shrill noise of claws grating on steel came from above.  Kiros identified the origin of the disturbance just as a band of light appeared under the top hatch.  It was being lifted open.  He grabbed the handle and yanked it down.  The creature's growl was close.  He bolted the hatch.  The grating continued above the roof.  Ward rose from the driver's seat, rifle in hands.

"It's all right; I've locked it," Kiros told him.  "Sorry, I should have known it would try opening it."

"It's still trying to open it," Ward said, listening to the scraping and the snarls that grew increasingly vicious outside.  

"It doesn't understand that the hatch's locked."

The sound ceased.  There was a slow series of bumps, and the car shook gently.

"It's strolling right on top of us," Ward said.

There was a final, more weighted quiver.  Then all was still.  

"Is it gone?" Ward said.  "It jumped off, right?"

Kiros looked out through one of the palm-sized windows on the walls of the car.  "Oh, hell," he said.  "To the wheel, quickly, Ward!  It's spotted Laguna."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

For all its ungentle appearance, the cliff's jagged façade abounded with convenient footholds, making for a relatively comfortable climb.  Laguna found that it was more a very steep hill than a cliff _per_ _se_.  And so it was that in his arduous and resolute ascent the lieutenant discovered himself fifty feet closer to the heavens in no time at all.  He chanced a peek down.  The terrain behind him was full of places to crack one's head against.  It was a _very_ steep hill.  "Bad idea," he muttered to himself and returned to the task.  The exertion intensified the heat of the air.  Sweat drops hung under his chin.  He had to rub his palms on the dry rock face frequently to rid it of the slippery moisture.  The trickle of blood was just a few feet before him, and the boot—he had no doubt now that it was army-issued—seemed almost within reach.  Footsteps from far down informed him of the men's arrival.

"I'm almost there," he shouted.  "Kiros, Ward!  One of you get ready to come up here.  Once I know he's alive, I'll need hands to move him somehow."

A high-pitched bark greeted his order, echoing against the stony hill.  

Laguna swerved his head.  On the ground, something big and unfamiliar and four-legged was observing him out of bright green eyes.  It released another bark, displaying teeth.    

            _Oh_, _shit,_ was Laguna's first thought.  His second was: _Can it climb?_

            The creature placed two paws on the rock that Kiros had sat on.  The other legs followed with an agility that belied the animal's bulk.  In a second it hopped onto the next stepping stone.  All the while its eyes remained fixed on his.  

            "Oh, shit!"  Laguna groped for his pistol.  He secured himself with one hand gripping a ledge and raised the pistol at the animal.  It was about to make its next jump.  He aimed for the head.

            Below, the car charged into his vision with a roar.  It collided with the tier of stumpy rocks covering the ground and sped over it, bulldozing into the creature.  Shrieking, the creature toppled sideways off its footing.  The car rushed over the fallen victim.  Squeals and the sound of metal crushing flesh and bones tore through the air.  

            "Excellent, boys!" Laguna cried.  He could see the creature under the car disintegrate in red vapor.  "Spooks me every time they do that," he said to himself.  The pistol still in grip, he resumed the climb in greater haste.  The goal was only a few steps up.

            Kiros opened the top hatch and called out to the lieutenant.  "Laguna, get back down here!"

            "Chill, Kiros.  I'm almost there!" he shouted back.

            "Down, now!  We're not out of danger.  These things move in packs!"

            Grunting, Laguna pushed his upper body onto the stone platform.  "Hey, are you all righ…"  He stopped, eyes wide.  Under shadows the boot for which he had labored lay in a pool of blood.  There was no trace of the owner.  "What the…"  

He picked up the bloodied footwear.  It was unusually heavy.  Then the animal, swift as a fox, was in his face. 

            Half in reflex Laguna fired the pistol, unaware of his aim.  One round hit, drawing a cry from the attacker that had sprung out of the shadows.  A massive and fast something moved before his eyes.  It impacted against his chest and pushed him off the platform.  Laguna went tumbling down the hill.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

            "No!" Kiros cried.  The corporal lifted his rifle and began firing at the second creature.  It was hidden by the rocks, though the high-raised tail was visible.  Stone fragments flew amid smoke.  "Show yourself, you bastard!"

            "What happened?" Ward cried, joining Kiros at the top of the car.  "Another one?"  

            "Laguna fell."

            Ward saw the lieutenant's unmoving form, sprawled thirty feet down from where he had seen him last.  His face was turned away.  "Oh, hell."

            "We have to get him," Kiros said.  He continued to fire at the predator.  

            "I'll get him.  Stay here and cover us, and be ready to drive." 

            Ward leapt off the car and ran.  Laguna was still at some height on a slab of rock that had caught him on the way down.  _The rock did not break his fall gently_, Ward thought as he ran.  _It's uneven and rough-edged_—_dropping face down on top of it like he did, he may easily have busted some ribs, if not his skull_.  "Laguna!  Hey!" Ward called out, clambering up the hill.  "Answer me, partner.  You all right up there?"  

The gunshots were quick and intermittent behind him.  Reaching the lieutenant, Ward kneeled at the fallen man's side.  Laguna was breathing but still as a corpse.  Coarse mountain dust coated his body.  His long hair was splayed across his face and the rock he lay on.  There was something about the angle of his bent waist that Ward did not like.  He rolled Laguna carefully to note his injuries.  _If he hurt a backbone, carrying him over the shoulder could make things worse— _

Underneath the locks that fell over most of his face, Laguna's eyes snapped open.  He lifted his head and beheld Ward's startled face.  "Get away!" he screamed.  He scrambled to his feet, lashing out blindly at the corporal with his arms.

            "Hey, hey, hey!  It's me!" Ward cried.

            Laguna pulled the hair away from his eyes.  "Ward?"

            "Yes.  Damn it, why don't you get yourself a haircut already?"

            "Uh, sorry," Laguna said, rubbing the side of his head that throbbed.  "Couldn't see."

            "Make my point for me," Ward spat out.  He dragged an incredulous gaze over Laguna's grimy figure.  "Hey, aren't you injured?"

            Laguna began dusting himself.  "I don't think so.  Bruised some, I think—throbs here and there."

Ward glanced at where Laguna had fallen from.  He shook his head, unconvinced.  "Come here.  Let me take a look at you."

            "I'm fine," Laguna said, batting the corporal's hands away.   

            "You're fine?" Ward echoed.

            "Yes."

            "You're fine," he repeated.

            "What's wrong with you?  I said I am."

            "No, you're not."

            "Excuse me, corporal, I think I'd know if I were hurt."

            "Do you realize how far you just fell down?"

            Laguna's eyes trailed up the rocky slope.  "Whoa, from all the way up there?"

            Ward stared at him.  "What're you, a freak?"

            "Hey, thanks a lot for being overjoyed at my survival!"

            "For the mercy of…" Ward grumbled and shook his head again.  "What's that in your hand?"

            Laguna held up the boot he salvaged by the string, which had become tangled with his fingers.  The foot that wore it was still inside, severed crudely above the ankle.

            "Oh, hell," Ward said, cringing.

            "I guess they couldn't figure out a way to untie it."

            "Oh, that's sick, Laguna."

            "I meant the critters!"                 

            "_Gentlemen!_"  Kiros' call startled both of them.  He waved frantically from the car.  "Gentlemen, get your hides in the car, now!  It seems we're in somebody's house."  

            Laguna and Ward cast a look about themselves.  They froze.  They were at the center of more than a dozen pairs of eyes scattered across the hill.  Laguna had not realized how much space the rugged surroundings could hide.  One by one the creatures emerged out of the shadows that dappled the craggy arena, treading the steep slopes as skillfully as mountain goats.              

            Laguna gulped.  "We found that lair after all," he muttered.

            Ward's glance moved from one beast to another.  Thus far they were betraying little aggression.  A kind of orderliness marked their movement, like spectators filling an auditorium.  "Think we should just walk away?  I heard that sometimes works."

            "Considering their last meal I doubt it'll work on these guys.  Ooh, dear," Laguna whispered, "they're coming down."  

Together they bolted down the hill.  The arena came alive with a collective growl, and multitude of footfalls followed.

"Hurry, hurry!" Kiros cried.  Most of the creatures were at some distance away, but a few were within alarming proximity.  He fired at the closest target.  The animal squealed, but it did not abort the chase.  A wounded foreleg notwithstanding, it launched itself into air in a tremendous downward leap to crash close behind the two men.  It got up and began limping furiously after them.  

Ward, not sparing a look at the pursuer, drew the harpoon from his back.  

"Laguna, Ward, get out of the way!" Kiros yelled over the sight of his rifle.  "Out of the way!  It's right at your tail—I can't shoot!"

            The creature closed upon Laguna.  He went down with a grunt.  He could feel the fierce, hot breath on his cheeks.  Then Ward swung the harpoon, and the creature stepped back, screeching.  Laguna raised himself in time to see Ward thrust the harpoon, its tip still sheathed, between the creature's eyes. 

            The animal made no sound this time.  It was as if Ward had driven not a harpoon but a cannonball through its skull.  There was a brief sizzling hiss when the weapon found the target, and the next moment saw the victim collapsed and dead.  No trace was left of its head; it was blown off clean—obliterated.

            Laguna witnessed the scene agape.  Ward stood before the dead creature, his expression bedazzled.  He looked at the victim and his hand, not believing what he had done.  The predators seemed to share the sentiment.  At the violent demise of their comrade they ceased the charge, withheld by an instinctive caution.  While the carcass grew faint and dispersed in crimson miasma, the rest of the pack held their places and watched the humans warily.  Ward retrieved the harpoon.  It was impossibly cool to the touch.  The leather covering, which he had not had the time to remove, was nowhere to be seen; it had been vaporized in the blow along with the creature's head, leaving the metal bare.

            Laguna tugged at Ward's arm.  "Come on, let's go!"

            They resumed skipping down the slope.  The creatures looked at one another as though uncertain of their next course of action.  Kiros pulled the car in front of the men.  The rear hatch dropped open like a drawbridge and hit the ground, and the men scurried onto it.  Immediately the car took off.  The hatch dragged and sparked against the soil before a pair of crankshafts started to pull it up slowly.           

            "What was that back there?" Kiros cried.  He had to shout to be heard above the engine blare.                

"I think Ward has been working out," Laguna shouted back.   

            "That ain't it," Ward barked.  He ran a hand down his sweat-drenched face.  "Something weird happened back there when I harpooned that lizard.  There's just no way…"

"They're called Grendels," Kiros said.  The car rocked severely on the bumpy forest trail.  He steered cautiously.  

            Laguna plopped down to a seat.  "Drive us out of here, Kiros.  Ugh, it's like an oven in here."    

            "I don't care what they're called," Ward hollered.  "I'm telling you, I felt something strange when I killed that thing.  Like something flowed down my arm."  He looked out to the rear through the thinning gap of the door.  

Something plunged through the gap and grabbed the corporal by the shoulder.  It pulled, slamming him into the door.  When he had recovered from the shock enough to see that he was in the clutch of a black paw, a tusked snout wedged its way in before the hatch could shut completely.  A long, flailing tongue almost touched his nose.  "Shit, we've got one on the car—"

"Ward!" Laguna cried, jumping out of the seat.  Ward was pinned against the door, thrashing to free himself from the claw that dug into his shoulder.  His free hand was holding off the creature by the tusk, keeping the jaw away.  

            "What's happening?" Kiros shouted.

            "Keep driving!"  

Laguna rushed to the corporal.  The Grendel was trapped squarely in the closing door, having managed into the car only the head and a foreleg.  He needed to force it off the car.  Laguna raised the boot he still held in his hand and brought the steel sole down on the animal's head—and then again, and again.  The Grendel did not let go of the car or the corporal.  All the while, the automatic hatch labored to close over the obstacle, emitting furious mechanical whine as it ground into the animal's neck.  Still the claw refused to release the prey.  The Grendel's snapping jaw inched closer to Ward's throat.  The predator and the prey exhaled strained breaths on each other's face.  "Let go of me, you shit!"            

            Ward's side pistol at his belt caught Laguna's eyes.  He pulled it out of the holster and, aiming it point-blank at the crown of the Grendel's skull, emptied the clip.  Fluid splattered onto the two men.  The creature groaned.  Its eyes quivered and slid shut, and the grip on the corporal grew loose.  Laguna smashed the boot one final time into the snout.  The creature fell away.  So did the door.  The hatch broke open, granting to the men an unobstructed view of the rear vicinity.  They gawked.

            In the dusty wake, a pack of Grendels stampeded over the cadaver in pursuit of the car.

            "Shi-it," Ward said.

            "Floor it, Kiros!  Floor it!" Laguna cried.

            "_Now_ what?" Kiros said from the driver's seat.

            "We've got the whole community migrating after our asses!  Faster, faster!"

            "Great," Kiros muttered as he accelerated the car.  "Hold on tight, people!"  The engine's scream rose by an octave, and the car began flying off every bump it hit.  Laguna and Ward gripped the side posts and gauged the pack's distance anxiously.  The door dragged on the soil again, sending sparks flying.  They made no attempt to close the door; they wanted to keep their eyes on the chasers.  "God, how can they be so fast?" Ward said.

            "Gun—I need a gun," Laguna said, throwing down the empty pistol.

            "Here."  Kiros held up his rifle.  Laguna took it and opened fire at the creatures.  Ward retrieved his own rifle and began shooting.

            Kiros squinted over the steering wheel.  Not far ahead on the track beyond the badly shaking windshield was a shimmering blue light.  No, it's not on the track, he corrected himself.  It was floating above it.  The car's tremor made it difficult to focus his vision, but it was slim and upright, looking for all the world like…

            "_The_ _hell!_" Kiros cried, stamping on the break pedal.  

The car skidded a long while before it came to a rest.  Laguna and Ward were both thrown forward by the unwarned stop, so that they found themselves just behind the driver's seat when they groggily picked themselves up.             

            "What the hell was that, Kiros?" Laguna cried, still unsteady.  "We crashed?"

            Ward fumbled for the rifle that had fallen on the floor.  The Grendels' footfalls were near, as well as their roars.  "Forget that.  They're almost here!"

"Look!" Kiros said.

            The vehemence of his call directed the others' eyes to the sight ahead.  What they saw riveted them.  

The _feet_, being at their eye level, were the first thing they saw.  The feet were ghostly white.  The feet glowed.  In fact, the feet were all but invisible, transparent as though belonging to a glass sculpture.  Laguna and Ward traced up the slender legs to which the feet belonged and which gained greater definition and solidity as they went up.  And they saw the figure enshrouded in blue glimmer that hovered in front of the car.

"…A… woman?" Ward mumbled, dumbstruck.

            She's _floating_ in the air, Laguna thought in amazement.  She stood before them tranquil and radiant, a portrait of cool dignity that overrode her utter nakedness.  Her face was pale as the rest of her body, her gaze level and calm. 

            While the soldiers watched speechless, the woman stretched apart her arms, assuming a cruciform stance.  As she swung them back the pale glow that wrapped her form flared.  The men were wholly ignorant of what was to follow.  And so with a panicked cry they shielded their eyes when the spectral blaze flashed, white and blinding and cold, and engulfed them.

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *  

            They stepped out of the car after the quiet returned.  

The figure they had seen outside the windshield was gone.  The growls of their chasers were gone, too.  They looked about the forest path that suddenly seemed deserted.          

"Why does everything look so white?" Ward said.  He knew he sounded dazed.

Laguna placed a hand on one of the many crystalline growths that covered the ground, the rocks, the branches and the shrubs, the Grendels, and everything else that had happened to be within a hundred feet behind the car when the figure had appeared and hit them with what they didn't know what.  It was cold and quickly grew moist under his palm.  He applied some weight on it, and the lump cracked and fell by his feet.  He picked up a piece.  "_Ice_," he said.  

The three soldiers spoke no more for a while.  Each surveyed the catastrophic scene in quiet disbelief.

"Hey, Kiros?" Ward said at length.  He rubbed a chunk of ice against his face gratefully.  The day was still hot, and he needed to wash off the Grendel's blood.  It was not a pleasant-smelling substance.   

"Yes," Kiros said.

"Which one was that?"

"What was what?"

"That ghostlike thing.  The woman.  What kinda monster was that?"          

"Er… None that I've heard of.  I'm not even sure that it was a monster."

"This place is just full of strange inhabitants," Laguna said.  "Let's get out of here before anything else shows up."

"That's the nicest thing you said all day," Kiros said.  He earned another glare from the lieutenant.  

The soldiers returned to the car and made ready to depart.  Kiros steered again.  Briefly they worried that the inexplicable ice storm had damaged the car, but the machine seemed unaffected.  They took the shortest course out of the forest. 

"What have you got there, Ward?" Laguna asked, noting that the corporal carried a hefty burden in both arms.

"Heat relief," Ward said.  He broke off a small piece of the ice and crunched it in his mouth.  

"That thing's gonna melt in twenty minutes," Laguna said.

"It'll be in my stomach long before then.  Ask nice and I might share.  Hey, what the…?" Ward said, dripping repugnance from his voice.  He pointed to the object that sat by Laguna.  "What're you still holding onto that gross thing for?"

            Laguna glanced down at the army boot he had snatched from the Grendels' lair.  "I'm taking it to Deling City," he said.

            "You gotta be joking."

            "What are you two talking about?" Kiros said, peering back.

            "It's that gross boot he rescued," Ward said.

            "Boot?  Oh, right—so what happened with that boot up there?  He was dead, wasn't he?"  

Laguna lifted the boot so Kiros could see into it.  Kiros winced.  "Oh."

            "Should've just thrown it back to the animals," Ward said. 

Laguna put down the boot and leaned back.  "Be grateful, corporal.  That footwear contributed to preservation of your ass."         

            "All right, all right—now throw it out, please?  Just looking at it is ruining my snack."

"I don't think so.  That foot is getting a proper military burial befitting a soldier of Galbadian Army in the memorial cemetery."

"And how are they gonna I.D. who it used to be attached to?  By the footprint?"

"Shut up, Ward.  And gimme some of that ice."

Reviews are doted on.  Also, if you'd like to be notified of future updates, please leave your e-mail address in a review slot.

Some explanations:

1.  My apology for the month-long hiatus.  Life has been hectic with all the end-of-term drudgery.

2.  I was puzzled by the way we are introduced to the Laguna gang in the game.  The sequence in Timber is extremely brief, and we promptly travel all the way across the continent to Deling City.  I tried to think of a good scenario to make this sudden change of locale plausible, and this is what I came up with.  It was supposed to be short, but after a few pages it sort of took on a life of its own.  Sorry.  I apologize about the gore factor, too.

3.  The game doesn't tell us the trio's ranks in G-Army, so I took the liberty of making Laguna a lieutenant, and Kiros and Ward corporals.  Normally soldiers would never speak to their commanding officer the way Kiros and Ward do to Laguna, but then of course these guys aren't your everyday soldiers.

4.  The deal with the man-eating pack of Grendels: I thought this might be an interesting way of acquainting the Laguna gang to the "fairies" who lend them power in combat.  In case you got confused, Laguna survived the fall unhurt thanks to junction spells, and likewise for Ward's super-harpoon.  And no, Shiva wasn't summoned, exactly—she just appeared somehow.  (Lately I've been feeling the need to develop the GF's as more solid characters, since they'll be around throughout the story.) 

5.  You may be wondering why the monsters in this chapter disappear in red vapor when they're killed.  This has to do with my personal theory about Lunar Cry that will be addressed later.    


	22. Reprieve

**FINAL FANTASY VIII: VIGIL OF THE FATES**

**by**** PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**22.  REPRIEVE**

The recently re-christened Deling City, formerly known as Galbadia City and still so called at some personal risk by many of its two million residents, was an old town made new through a revolution.  It was the capital of a nation at war, where soldiers in uniforms were a ubiquitous sight and a stern sort of peace reigned, a quiet uneasiness stirred by battlefields far, far away.  Since the rapidly expanding military bureaucracy could not be crammed into the existing government buildings, the Deling regime opted for the highly unpopular solution of seizing civilian facilities for its uses.  The home headquarter for Timber occupation forces, housed in the best suites of Galbadia Hotel, was one such case.  

At almost eleven the lobby, which served as the mess hall, was empty except for a few officers lounging about.  Three men strode into the lobby in full field gear.  Their appearances were eye-catchingly bedraggled.  A long-haired youth led the trio, and the other two men did not look happy.

"I don't understand why we have to do this tonight," the largest of the men said, rubbing his eyes.  "I sat stiff for eleven hours in that boxcar from hell.  Can't we crash somewhere and sleep first?"

"My behind is just as sore as yours, Ward," the leader said.  "Incidentally, my behind is probably in for a serious chewing.  I'd rather not have that happen the first thing in the morning."

"Listen, Laguna," the third member of the trio addressed the leader, "I think I'd better have a look at that report before you submit it.  A quick proofreading can't hurt, yes?"

"Truth," said Laguna with an air of dignity, "requires no proofreader, much less a censor."

"Can it," snapped Ward.  "Just do as Kiros says, and maybe your behind won't get chewed out quite as bad."

"What is this, you trust his pen but not mine?"

"I don't even want to imagine what half-assed epic you managed to pull out of our fiasco.  I mean you worked on that thing through the whole friggin' trip.  It's an obsession, I tell you.  The army ain't a place for literary men.  If you count as one, that is."

"Quit whining, Ward.  I said you didn't have to come with me, didn't I?"

Kiros shook his head.  "When we get chewed out, we get chewed out together."

"You guys just want to watch me get railed at."

"Well, we could use the entertainment."

Laguna grunted and made his way over to the help desk.  A fresh-faced petty officer rose and greeted him with a wide smile.

"Ah, Lieutenant Loire.  Welcome back home."

"Hello, there."

"It's sure good to see you again in one piece, sir—something few expected."

Kiros and Ward sniggered.  Laguna grunted again.  "I've come to submit the report."

"Excellent, sir.  The colonel orders you to his office."

"Oh?" Laguna said in surprise.  "Has he been informed of my arrival already?"

"No, sir.  But he told me to have you report in the moment you show up."

"Oooh," Kiros and Ward sang in unison, looking at each other.

"Shut up," snapped Laguna.  He turned back to the petty officer.  "Um... well, in that case—hoo, boy, look at the time.  I'm sure the colonel's long since retired to bed.  So I think we'll just be back the first thing in the morning—"

"Actually, he's still in his suite.  You may go right in, sir."

"Oh?  Really?"

"Yes, sir.  They handed us a major inventory to complete by morning.  The colonel has been at work all day.  Didn't expect to sleep tonight, he said."

"I say, that cannot have put him in a very forgiving mood," observed Kiros offhandedly.

"Thanks for that input, corporal," Laguna shot at the tall man.  "All right, we'll go see him right away—"

"Actually," the helpful petty officer cut in, "he was quite specific, sir, that you are to report to him alone."

"Oooh," Kiros and Ward sang again.

Laguna cut them a glare, but then heaved a resigned sigh.  "You men go ahead and wait for me at the bar while I talk to the colonel."

"Survive, lieutenant," Ward said grimly.  "God knows you've survived worse."

"If his fingers twitch towards his sidearm, don't think—just duck," advised Kiros.

"It should be all right.  I hear he doesn't do summary executions all that much anymore."

"Argh....  I'm going," Laguna growled, turning briskly on his toes.  After a few steps he threw back a venomous glance at his men.  "If I'm not back within the hour, come and collect my body, you heartless jerks!"

"You were hoping he wouldn't be in, weren't you?" Kiros returned, arms folded.

"I'm going!"

"That's why you insisted on coming in at this hour, isn't it?"

"I'm going!"

Kiros and Ward watched their lieutenant march down the hall.  "Think he'll be all right?" Ward asked, yawning.

"Of course he won't be all right," Kiros replied with a chuckle that was close to a sigh.  "But then he has practically made survival his career.  I mean the poor guy always pulls through by the skin of his teeth.  So... yes, I suppose he'll be all right.  Come on, let's go for a drink."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Laguna stopped in front of the door.  He turned back to see if Kiros and Ward were still watching.  When he saw they had gone, he quickly dusted himself with his hands—he was filthy—and smoothed down his hair.  Momentarily, and foolishly, he wished for a mirror.  And cologne; he absolutely reeked.  He took a deep breath, and rapped on the door.

"Yes?" came a deep gravelly voice from the other side.

"Lieutenant Laguna Loire reporting, sir."

There was an ominous interval of silence.  "Come in," came the voice again.

Laguna entered.  Behind the desk by the fireplace, chaotic with paper stacks, sat the portly form of the colonel.  Laguna saluted him.  The colonel did not return it and said nothing, but only removed his spectacles and eyed him coolly.  Standing unrelieved, Laguna resisted the urge to gulp.

"Normally," the colonel spoke at last, slowly and with great deliberation, "after receiving a salute I would tell men to stand at ease.  But since you, lieutenant, seem to suffer from what could only be described as pathological excess of ease, I think I'll just have you stand like that for the duration of this meeting."

Laguna gulped.  "Yes, sir."

"Four days behind schedule," said the colonel, clucking his tongue.  "Regular as a clock, aren't you, lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir, I do apologize.  I will take full responsibility for the squad's tardiness—"

"Report," the colonel cut in sharply.

"Yes, sir."  

Laguna fumbled for and presented the sealed envelope containing the report to the colonel.  The older man took the envelope, gave it a glance, and promptly dropped it unopened into the wastebasket next to the desk.

Laguna gulped again.

The colonel leaned back comfortably in his seat, placing both hands on his rotund belly.  He had been needing a break from all the paperwork drudgery.  He was going to enjoy this.  He produced a linen cloth, removed his pistol from the holster and, as the younger man before him watched nervously, began to wipe the weapon with idle, almost absentminded strokes.  "Now that we have gotten that out of the way," said he with a smile, "why don't you tell me _exactly _what happened?"

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"There goes the clock," Kiros said, finishing his glass, as the chime struck announcing midnight.  "Should we head on back and claim the corpse?"

Lowering his own bottle, Ward smacked his lips in appreciation and wiped them with the back of his hand.  "And leave all this booze?  I think not."

"It is some good stuff," agreed Kiros.  "But you'd better make that one your last.  Your eyes are starting to cross."

"He'll be back any minute.  He never misses out on drinks this good."

"I do hope he is still a lieutenant when he gets back."

Ward laughed a drunken laughter.  "Strange thing," he said shaking his head.  "I couldn't expect a more annoying boss, but I wouldn't wanna serve under any other."

"See, that's the sort of things you should say when he's around."

"That's the sort of things I say when I'm drunk.  Boy, I'm gonna be so wasted in the morning."

"I'm afraid you're already there, my friend."

"Hey, Kiros," said Ward, a serious light coming into his eyes.  "To tell you the truth, I _am_ a little worried.  You think he wrote all that junk about the monsters and the ghost woman and what not in the report?"

"Probably.  He's every bit the thorough journalist, only completely without tact."

"Ugh, he's gonna sound like a lunatic.  Forget lieutenancy, he'll—_burp_; 'scuse me—be lucky to still have his friggin' uniform when the colonel's done chewing him out."

"He'll be fine.  How's that arm doing?"

Ward looked down at his bandaged shoulder where the Grendel had sunk its claws two days before.  "Y'know, it's weird.  It doesn't bother me at all.  It's practically healed up already."

"Huh... and they were nasty gashes, too."

"Damn right.  But you know what's even stranger?  I didn't notice the wounds until we almost got out of that forest.  And even then it didn't hurt—just this... tingle, like there was something crawling up and down my arm.  It was like the thing had anaeste—anesthaze—anaetized—oh, hell, my tongue's slippin', but y'know what I mean—itself."

Kiros frowned thoughtfully and poured out another glass.  "Laguna walks away from his fall without a scratch, your wound heals almost overnight, your harpoon takes the head off a monster like it's a wax doll, and we get rescued by a mysterious ghostly being who rains ice on a summer day..."

"You're freaking me out, Kiros."

"Sorry.  It's been a freaky week."

"And here comes the man responsible for it," Ward said, catching Laguna's drooping form in the doorway.  He waved.  "Over here, Laguna."

Laguna sauntered over and plopped down next to his comrades.  He threw back his head tiredly, eyes staring at the ceiling, and did not speak.

"Well, are you still a lieutenant?" Kiros asked.

"Are you still in the army?" Ward followed.

"Yes on both counts," Laguna answered with a drawl.  

"And the Amazing Laguna cheats Fate yet once more," Kiros declared, clapping the lieutenant on the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah.  Sorry, but can you get me a drink?"

Ward uncorked a fresh bottle and filled a glass.  "We've got all the booze you'll ever want right here.  Chug it down, man."

Laguna took the drink and gulped it down gratefully.  He raised his eyebrows as he lowered the glass.  "Whoa, what is this?"

"The very finest Galbadia Hotel Bar has to offer.  And we've got ourselves three whole bottles.  Well, six—but Kiros and I finished half."

"It's really something.  Since when can you guys afford this stuff?" Laguna asked, pouring himself another glass.

"That would be the courtesy of the gentlemen over there."  Kiros pointed to a table at the far corner of the bar, where a group of troopers were playing cards. 

"Huh?"

"Apparently there's been a wager going 'round while we were missing in Timber.  Those guys are the winners."

"Wager?" Laguna repeated, not comprehending.  "Over what?"

"Over whether or not Lieutenant Laguna Loire finally kicked it this time.  The odds were thirteen to one against your survival."

Laguna stared back blankly.  Kiros shrugged.  "They insisted on buying the drinks.  The least they could do for all the money you've made them, they said."

Laguna turned towards the card players and raised his glass in salute.  "Thanks, men!" he hollered.  The troopers raised their own glasses, and one of them gave him a hearty thumbs-up.  "Long live Loire!" said someone, throwing the party into a fit of laughter.

"So, how did the meeting go?" Kiros asked.

"Well, he began by sticking my report in the trash without reading a word."

"Hey, lucky for you," Ward said.

"And then he took out his gun and shined it while I gave an oral report accounting for the squad's delay."

"Ho-ho!"

"Next time you try it, Ward, and see if it's funny."

"And then what?" prompted Kiros.

"Well, he wanted to know why the abandoned enemy village of Mona and the hundred and fifty acres of adjoining wheat fields weren't in ashes like they were supposed to be."

(Ward: "I knew that'd come back and bite us.") 

"I thought I would explain to the dear old colonel how the 'scorched earth' tactic** is generally reserved for use by the home court, not the visitor—"

(Kiros: "You didn't.")

"—but I didn't, and instead tried to steer his attention away from that topic with the account of our skirmish with the walking mushrooms which resulted in our accidental separation from the company—"

(Kiros: "Out of the fire and into the furnace.")

"—which didn't seem to make him very understanding, though I explained to him that we tried very hard to relocate the company, except that every critter in the forest seemed to run into us—"

(Ward: "Actually, it was you who kept running us into them.")

"—by the time I got to the acid-spitting crows that snatched our only compass, he was getting pretty impatient.  I stressed of course that navigating by the sun alone in an unknown forest is no simple task.  Then he said I was... let's see, an incompetent; an irredeemable feather-brain who would misplace his own arm; a moron; a blockhead; a retard two I.Q. points shy of being a medically certified imbecile—"

(Ward, chuckling: "Geez, he really let him have it.")

"—a lunkhead who should not be allowed to carry a weapon—"

(Kiros: "Just be glad he didn't notice your missing gun.")

"—which made him notice my empty holster, and he asked, what have I done with my sidearm?  So then I had to explain about the boot—"

(Kiros smacked his forehead.)

"—and then he said I was an ass; a joke; a clown; an idiot; an insult to our great army; a liability to our great army; a disgrace to our great army—"

(Kiros, holding up a hand: "We get the picture.")

"—and my alliterating name and rank annoyed him; he didn't like my hair; he should like to replace my arm with a prosthetic one for the pleasure of seeing me lose it within a week; and just what the hell was this stench emanating from me, stinking up the room?  I told him it was the lizard's blood that got on me and I hadn't had the time to freshen up, and he said I was a—"

"All right, all right!" Ward said, bringing the monologue to a halt.  "Enough, man.  You're taking the fun out of my drinks."

"And so in short, fellas," concluded Laguna, "I think we can expect for awhile a drastic reduction in leave hours and lots of patrol duty at some very unpopular spots."

"Great.  Drink?" Kiros said, motioning to refill the lieutenant's glass.

"Thank you," Laguna replied, and snatched the whole bottle.  "God, I need another job."

Kiros sneered.  "What, is it that talk again?"      

"I'm serious this time, guys.  My days in the army are numbered."

"What will you do after you get out?"

"I dunno.  Be a freelance writer maybe."  

"Freelancing these days is just a fancy term for homeless, you know."

"How's that different from being in the army?  We're always on the move as it is anyway.  I know you two don't plan on staying here forever, either," Laguna said, rubbing his ear.

"Well," Ward slurred, taking another swig from the bottle, "I can always get back to whaling, I guess."

"Ward, you really shouldn't drink any more tonight," Kiros warned.

"Leave me be.  I'm a sailor.  What do you land folks know about drinking?"

"You know, Ward," Laguna said grinning, "if you're gonna blast whales like you did that lizard, your harpooning won't leave much of kills to make profit from."

Ward was annoyed.  "Quit bringing that out.  It was a freak occurrence, is all."

"Come on, you vaporized the thing's head off."  Laguna continued to rub his ear.  "I think it was a little more than a chance... dammit!"

Kiros looked up.  "What's up?"

Laguna kept his palm pressed over the ear he has been massaging.  "Never mind."

"Something wrong with your ear?"

"Never mind.  It's nothing."

"Uh-oh," Ward said, freezing.

"What?" Laguna asked.

"You said it's nothing.  That means it's a major something."

"Ha-ha."

"Seriously.  You remember Loberman, Kiros?"

"Oh, yes.  The 'nothing' about the faulty axle.  Had us eating hospital rations for a week, I remember."

"And the time we had to cross Laffane plains, too.  'It's nothing—we'll just refill our canteens on the way,' he said.  We went four days without water."

"Indeed we did.  'Fess up, Laguna."

"No way.  You'll just say I'm hearing voices again or some such stupid thing."

Ward looked panicked.  "You're hearing voices again?"

"No, you lunkhead," Laguna snapped, rubbing the ear.  "It's just... these weird buzzing hums that comes and goes.  Been driving me absolutely nuts for days."

Kiros and Ward sat up, staring.

"Now I know what you'll say.  But I'm dead earnest—"

"Er, actually," Kiros said, "I've been experiencing the same thing... is what I was going to say."

"You're kidding, right?" Ward cried.  "I thought there was something seriously up with me all this time."

"Since when is 'all this time'?" asked Kiros, brows creasing.

"Since that forest, two days ago."

"Same here."

"Me, too."

The men regarded one another in silence.

"All right, what's going on?" Laguna spoke at last.

"I don't know," replied Kiros.  "But if this is a symptom of some sort, all three of us are being affected."

"Or infected," Laguna said gravely.  "You think maybe we picked up something in that forest?  I couldn't name half the critters we ran into there.  Who knows what they might have been carrying?"

"I bet that's what it is," Ward cried.  "I bet you got it first, and I got it from you!"

"Ah, for crying out loud, Ward."

"You gave it to me, didn't you!  I just know you did."

"Oh, shut up!  We don't even know what this is, if anything at all.  Are we experiencing any other... eh, symptoms?"

"Well," Kiros began cautiously, "when the buzzing gets especially sharp sometimes, I get a tad dizzy."  He paused to gauge the men's reaction, and read on their apprehensive faces the confirmation that it was the same for them.  "And, it was actually Ward that brought this to my attention, but I've also been feeling something like currents run up and down my limbs from time to time.  I didn't think much of it, but..."

"My Goth," lisped Ward, "we're doomed!  What're we gonna do?"

Laguna scratched his head, and winced at the grimy locks that met his fingers.  "For all we know it might be a temporary thing, whatever it is.  Let's wait a few days and see whether it passes."

"But you gave it to us!" Ward moaned.  "I just know it can's simply disappear—not if I caught it from you."

"Let it drop, will you?  How can you be so damn sure you got it from me?"

"Because it's my _lot_ to share your misfortunes!"

"Aww, Ward—that's so sweet of you to say.  I'm touched."

"He's drunk.  Don't mind him," said Kiros.  "In any case, I'm not convinced that this is necessarily an unwelcome thing."

"Whaddaya mean?" Ward asked.

"You said it yourself, Ward—that the wound that should have been painful was not, and in place of pain you felt a tingling sensation through your arm.  You were the one to call the effect 'anaesthetic.'"

"You're saying that this—whatever it is—is actually helping me?"

"After you harpooned one of the lizards," Laguna said, thumbing his chin, "didn't you also say you felt something move down your arm?"

"Huh?  Come to think of it..."

The men were silent once again.

"What do you suppose it all means?" asked Kiros.

"I don't know," replied Laguna.

"I do," Ward breathed.  "We've been possessed."

"Oh, come on."

"We _have_ to be!  How else do you explain you and me healing so fast?"

"I didn't heal, Ward.  I was unhurt by dumb luck."

"What about my ridiculous strength?  And the whispers in my ears?"

Laguna made a face.  "Since when were they _whispers_?  I thought we agreed on buzzing."

"Sometimes they sound like whispers!"

"Great, so now you are the one hearing voices."

"It's that naked forest witch we saw that's doing it, I tell you!"

"Ward, you're drunk."

"Gentlemen, let's take a breath, shall we?" Kiros proposed.

"A tranquilizer is what he needs to take," snapped Laguna.

"I swear the witch's haunting us!"

"Oh, shove it, Ward.  If you nailed that critter 'cause you're possessed then Kiros and I should be able to crack this table like a—" And so saying, Laguna clenched a fist and brought it down on the wooden table, hard.

With a brittle crunch the oak shattered, leaving a saucer-sized dent at the edge of the table.  

Laguna, Kiros, and Ward gaped.  No one said a word for a long moment.

"HOLY SHIT," Ward hissed low.

"It... must be a very old table.  It must be," said Kiros, stuttering uncharacteristically.

Laguna picked up the broken chunk of wood from the floor.  It was a perfectly sound piece of oak, with no signs of rotting or decay.  Kiros observed it incredulously.  "Doesn't your hand hurt?" he asked Laguna.

"Huh?  Er... no.  Not at all," he answered, coming out of the daze.

"Is everything all right, gentlemen?" the barkeep asked, approaching the table.

Laguna hurried to his feet and intercepted the barkeep.  He blocked the damaged table from his view.  "Everything is fine—sorry if we disturbed anyone."

"I thought I heard something break..."

"This silly drunk," said Laguna, patting the bandana-wrapped head of Ward who still sat staring in stupefaction, "nodded off and smacked himself into the table.  We'll keep him on a leash.  Don't worry yourself."

Frowning, the barkeep left.  Laguna sank back into his seat.

"We are possessed," Ward slurred, eyes wide and bloodshot.

"My dear Ward, if you say that one more time, I'm beating you over the head with your harpoon."

"But we are!  You saw it—you did it!"

Kiros rose and gathered his gear.  "Let's get out of here.  We should discuss this someplace private."

"We gotta—we gotta find help," Ward mumbled, remaining glued to his seat.  "Charms, exorcism, good luck tattoos—something."

"Up now, big guy," Laguna said as he struggled to drag the intoxicated giant to his feet.  "We have to leave before they see we've wrecked their furniture.  Kiros, get the bottles, will you?"

"Why did I pass on that tattoo?  My buddies offered to get me a good one before I left home but I—"

"Sailor, you can ramble your superstitions in private.  Help me with the other arm, Kiros."

"Actually," Kiros replied, putting Ward's arm around his shoulders, "I think Ward and I'll be going by ourselves."

Laguna frowned.  "What are you talking about?"

"Incoming, six o'clock."

Laguna glanced behind, and spotted the approaching figure.  He swerved back, mortified.  "Holy crap!  Julia!"

"She's been looking this way for awhile," said Kiros.

"Hey, look—it's Laguna's li'l crush," Ward burped.

"I didn't even see her come in!  Why didn't you say something?" whispered Laguna, his back still turned on the woman.

"We were in the middle of an important discussion, as I recall."

"Is she coming our way?"

"You see anybody else here?"

"Oh, man, oh, man!  How, how do I look?"

"Terrible.  And you stink."

"Crap!" he growled, burying his face in his hands.

"Hello," said a soft, melodious voice from behind.  

Laguna whipped around so fast that Ward who had been half leaning on him nearly fell forward.  "Hi," he squeaked.

Kiros stayed the bulky man and nodded politely at the woman in red that had accosted them.  "Hello, Miss Julia.  I'm afraid my friend here is badly in need of a room where he can pass out in peace.  Lieutenant, we'll see you later.  Good night, Miss."

"Good night then," said Julia, smiling.

"Laguna, we gotta undo the curse," Ward slurred as he was ushered away on unsteady feet.  Laguna closed his eyes and bit down a groan.  Kiros flashed a grin before disappearing through the door.  Laguna and Julia were left alone in the deserted corner of the bar.

"You have very colorful friends," Julia remarked.

"Ah, yes—yes, I do," Laguna agreed, caught off-guard; he had been trying to think of what to say.  "They're as big troublemakers as I am, really, but they've always been good buddies.  To me.  With me.  Us together, I mean."  He cringed.

"So I noticed.  The three of you always seem to stand out together, no matter how big the crowd."

"You mean you've noticed us before?  I'm honored."  That was pretty smooth, wasn't it? Laguna thought, mentally patting himself on the back.

Julia laughed.  The sound was silvery in his ears.  "How could I not?  You're always at the very front.  Once you almost got yourself into a brawl with another party, I remember, to get a table by the stage!"

Laguna blushed scarlet in an instant.  He hadn't known she was watching that!  "Ah... well, I have long been a fan of yours, so..."

"Oh, don't take me wrong.  I was very flattered," said Julia, causing the lieutenant to beam at once.  "Afterwards I couldn't help but notice you—even when you came alone without your friends.  That got rather frequent, as I remember.  I was beginning to wonder if the trio had been broken up."

Laguna was speechless.  She had not merely noticed him; she had been observing him!  "Ah... Would you like to sit down, Miss Julia?"

"Thank you.  Just Julia is fine."

A lone bottle of champagne remained in the ice bucket, which Kiros had thoughtfully left untouched on the table.  Thank you, my friend! Laguna said to himself as he uncorked it.  "We've got pretty good champagne here.  Oh, I've totally forgotten to tell you!  Miss Julia, I mean Julia, I am—"

"Lieutenant Loire, isn't it?" she finished.

He was speechless again.  "You know my name?" he gasped out.

"Well," Julia said, looking a trifle abashed, "things got lively here when your division came home last week.  I kept hearing the men say this and that about a Laguna—Laguna didn't return and missed the train home, Laguna finally lucked out, that sort of things.  I asked them who this Laguna was, and what should they tell me but that it's the fellow with long hair who always sits at the front whenever I play?  Now imagine my surprise when I came down for a drink, and saw you back here with your friends."

"Oh," whispered Laguna, staring at the pianist's beautiful face like a man hypnotized.  

"Um... lieutenant, you're spilling your champagne."

"Oh!"  He looked down and snatched the bottle from the overflowing glass.  "I'm so sorry.  I—I didn't get anything on your dress, did I?"

"I'm fine.  Oh, my," Julia said, noting the ruined table.  "Whoever did this, I wonder?"

Laguna felt sweat on his brow.  "Oh, that.  Um... yeah, it was like that when we got here.  Should've got ourselves another table."

"Goodness, it looks like someone put a _shell _through it.  Really, what these men do sometimes when they get drunk..."

"It—it's absolutely barbaric, I know," he stuttered.  "Totally uncivilized, some of these fellows.  Gotta be careful around'em."

"But aren't they your army comrades?" Julia said, a mock grin at her lips.  "You trio don't have a terribly gentle image either, you know."

"Ward and Kiros?  Nah," Laguna replied, waving his hand.  "They don't look it, but they're both big softies underneath—kind of like me.  They couldn't have put up with me this long otherwise."

Julia released another sparkling laughter.  "Well, what are softies like you doing in the army, then?"

"We gotta make ends meet, you know?  Ward used to be a harpooneer on a whaling ship, and Kiros... he's from a corner of the earth you've probably never heard of.  He basically left home just so he could see the world.  The army tripled in size in just two years, you know.  To fill up all those vacancies they ended up taking in men of every conceivable sort from every place you could name on the map.  The army was... an exciting place to be for the first couple of years."

"Why only for the first few years?" Julia asked with a cocked head.

Laguna grew serious, and his smile was fragile.  "Everything wears out after awhile, I guess.  It was the people that drew me to the army, but the army has been getting less and less humane over the years—what with all the wars and the foreign campaigns.  Although, I have to admit, the one thing I still enjoy about the army is the travels abroad."

"I must say, you look like you're a born wanderer," she opined, smiling meaningfully at his dirty, ragged form.

"Ah, well...," he laughed embarrassedly.  "I must be quite a sight to look at.  And I really apologize about the smell.  It's this nasty animal that I got uncomfortably close to a couple days back—"

"It's quite all right; I don't mind.  War is a nasty thing, isn't it?"

"It is.  But, um, what about you, Julia?  How have things been for you these months?"

"Very good.  I've been working on my first song, which I'm hoping to publish before the end of the year."

"Really?" he cried, delighted.  "That's great!  Rest assured I'll buy the first copy available—first ten!  Can I ask you in advance to autograph them?"

"Consider it a promise, Lieutenant Loire."

Laguna shook his head.  "I'm only called that when I'm in troubles.  Please, call me Laguna."

"All right, Laguna," she beamed.

Laguna forgot to breathe for a moment.  The woman was blinding when she smiled!  Realizing that he had been staring like an idiot, he averted his gaze and fumbled desperately for his next words.  Julia looked on amused.  "So, Julia, you're from—"

"Brenheim.  It's a small town."

Saved! he said to himself.  "Oh, really?  You know, I recognize that name!  It's right near, um, it's right inside—" He stopped suddenly.  He remembered where Brenheim was.  Oh, crap, he thought.

"It's a district of Timber," Julia provided.  For the first time since the conversation began, she looked away from the man that sat before her, and she was quiet.

Crap, crap, crap! Laguna chanted in his mind.  That was the wrong topic to head into.  But how could he have foreseen that the country his army was invading, the country he had just returned from as a part of that invasion effort, was Julia's home?  How could he get himself out of this?  Think! he told himself.  Think, Laguna!

"Um...  A beautiful place, isn't it?"  

"It used to be."

He could think of nothing.  He was screwed.

"I didn't expect Galbadia to invade Timber," Julia said in a much subdued tone.  "My career brought me to this place back when it was still called Galbadia City.  I am too established here to leave at whim now, but it's hard to think of home these days without a heavy heart."

"It... must be hard for you, Julia, living so close to the men responsible for your countrymen's misery."

"I do not hold them all responsible," she replied, matching his gaze once more.  "I understand that it is the regime, not the soldiers, which is greedy and warlike.  But I wish, I hope, the people of Galbadia will realize the error of their leaders.  I... Even as I settled here, I have always wanted my future children to grow up in Timber.  But I wouldn't want a colony, much less a battlefield, for their home."

"Deling isn't really interested in Timber, you know," Laguna said cautiously.  "It's his obsession with Esthar that's driving him to grab anything that may help him on that front.  If occupying Timber proves to be useless in his war effort against Esthar, and I hope it does for Timber's sake, he will not waste military resources to hold onto it."  He knew it was a load of speculative bull.  But he wanted to make Julia feel better about it at least.

Julia smiled then.  It was a tremendous relief for Laguna.  "Would you not be deemed disloyal to say such a thing?" said she.

"Frankly I don't expect to be in the army much longer.  You're right; a loyalty that one cannot fully maintain in good conscience ought to be renounced."

She regarded the youth in some surprise.  She had not expected him to go that far.  He laughed nervously at her expression.  

"I say some strange things, I know.  I've been told that more than once."

"No.  No, Laguna, I'm glad I decided to speak with you.  And I'm glad you returned home safely."

Laguna flushed visibly.  "Thank you.  That's the best welcome home I've received."

The brief talk had been wrapped up, they realized.  But neither seemed willing to rise from the seat and say good-bye.  Laguna contemplated his glass that was still full: what now?  Then Julia stood up, and he followed suit.  He made ready to extend his hand and bid her a good night.

"Listen," she said, "where are you staying for the night?"

"Me?" he said, taken aback.  "Er, Kiros and Ward probably got a room in the hotel somewhere.  I was going to find them—"

"I have a whole suite to myself.  You're welcome to use one of the guest rooms if you like."

"A guest room?  In your suite?" he all but squealed.

Julia made an exaggeratedly stern face.  "Mind you, I'm just offering a place to pass the night to a fan of mine.  And I don't have to remind you to keep this between ourselves, now do I?  We don't want people having funny thoughts about it."

"Of—of course not," he stammered.

"Good.  I'll go on ahead, then.  Come on your own to suite 203."  She laughed at the mix of fear and discomfort on his face.  "Don't worry, Laguna.  I promise there won't be anything inappropriate.  You'll even have your own bathroom.  You certainly look like you could use it."

Then she was gone.  Laguna sat back down.  He retraced the interview that had just taken place, and thought of what was about to take place.  He then smacked himself on the cheek.  "What am I thinking?  Nothing inappropriate, she said," he said aloud.  But he was going to sleep in Julia's private suite!  And they hadn't even been acquainted thirty minutes ago!  It was a dream.  A wonderful dream.  Laguna got up and exited the bar.  He waited for the elevator at the lobby.  "I don't know how I'm gonna explain this to the guys in the morning...  Heck, they'll probably think I'm making it up anyway."  

Then it happened again.  The buzzing hum started without warning, and quickly grew in his ears.  It almost felt like it was proceeding from the very center of his brain.  It was quite loud now, and the dizziness was the most intense yet.  He leaned against the wall and supported himself.  The hum's pitch fluctuated wildly.  He covered his ears.  Ward had been right—it did sound rather like whispers...  With that last thought, Laguna blacked out.

Author's note:

**scorched earth: a tactic that involves torching one's own agricultural fields in order to starve the invading forces.  Russia resorted to this desperate measure when Napoleon's army invaded that country, with successful results.

1.  I'm back.  Please don't kill me, those of you who remember me.  But if you want to flame me for the obscenely long hiatus, I understand.

2.  Next installment: Timber.  We'll get back to Squall and company in Timber at last.


	23. Confusion

**FINAL FANTASY VIII: VIGIL OF THE FATES**

**By PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**23. CONFUSION**

Something is scraping my cheek.

That's my first thought as I come to.  Next I am aware of the carpet pressed against my face, and the rhythmic roar of the running train.  Groggily I pick myself up and rub my sore face, where the carpet has left tooth marks.  Zell and Selphie are sprawled where I saw them last.  Panic grips me at their sight.  I move to check their pulse, but quickly find it unnecessary.  Their easy, regular breathing is plain, as is Zell's snore.  They are quite sound asleep.

"Hey, wake up," I say, shaking Zell by the shoulder.

"Five more minutes," comes the reply, automatic as an answering machine.

I grab a half-filled cup of juice on the night table and pour it over his head.  Zell springs up with a cry and a gurgle.  I move on to Selphie.  "Selphie.  Selphie, get up."

"God, did you have to do that?" Zell groans, frantically wiping off the dripping liquid.  Groove marks from the carpet checker his face like window panes.

Selphie stretches her arms and yawns.  "Good morning...," she mumbles, and then catches herself.  "Wait a second, why am I here...?"

"Don't you remember?" I ask.  "You collapsed on the couch..."

"Huh?  Oh, my gosh!" she cries, turning crimson.  "Guys, I'm _so_ sorry!  I didn't meant to crash in your cabin like that.  I'm kind of weak with alcohol..."  Then she catches herself again.  "Waitasec—I didn't get drunk last night!"

"If you say so."

"What the hell happened, Squall?" Zell asks, standing up.  "I remember passing out right after she did..."

"What?  _You_ did, too?"

"He did," I confirm.  "And so did I, immediately after you two."

We are wordless for a long minute, and regard one another in turn.

"...Sabotage?" Selphie ventures hesitantly.

Zell folds his arms with a thoughtful frown.  "How?  We didn't eat or drink anything we didn't bring ourselves...  Sleeping gas, maybe?"

I shake my head.  "My GF's should have protected me from something like that."

"Maybe your GF's were goofing off."

"We weren't hurt, so whoever did this wasn't after our lives...  Oh!" Selphie cries, eyes widening.  "Squall, the orders!"

I dash to my bag and retrieve the envelope containing the Garden's orders.  Everything is the way I left it.  The sealed envelope hasn't been touched, either.

"If they weren't after us, and they weren't after the documents, what the hell did they want?" Zell says.

"Check your luggage and see if anything is missing.  Selphie, see about your cabin, too."

Fifteen minutes later, we have failed to detect anything out of the ordinary.  We reassemble in the men's cabin.

"The culprit has to be on the train still, right?" Selphie says.  "As I understand there is no stopping point between Balamb and Timber."

"He might have found a way to hop off," Zell opines.  "We were out for five full hours.  Who knows what might've happened during all that time?"

"It didn't feel like five hours," she replies.  "I feel like I've slept for _days_."

Oddly enough, that's my sentiment exactly.

"Not that it was unpleasant, though.  I had this spectacular dream..."

I had a dream too.  It wasn't pleasant, however.  

I dreamt that I was a moron... 

But then come the sudden knocks on the door, and as one we tense up.

"Yes?" I call out without approaching the door.

"Just letting you know, sir, that we are arriving at Timber in one hour."

"Right.  Thank you."

"There will be an announcement at thirty minutes to arrival."

The attendant's footfalls fade away outside.  I make a decision and rise to my feet.  "I'm going to persuade him to let me look at the passenger manifest," I address the team.  "Zell, stay here and watch the cabin until I'm back.  Selphie, you return to your cabin and do the same.  Pack your things and get ready to go."

"Persuade, huh?" Zell says, a knowing grin at his mouth.  "Maybe you should let me do this bit.  Me and my fists can be pretty _persuasive_ to wimpy train attendants—"

"Stay in the cabin, Zell."

"All right...  Boy, I do hate sitting and wondering.  Just what the hell's going on anyway?  All three of us passing out together on our first mission?"

"Maybe we've been possessed," Selphie giggles.

I freeze in the doorway.  Images come rushing back, and as I turn back to the girl I can almost picture the burly, drunken harpooner in the blue and white uniform, a bottle in hand.  "What did you say?"

"Hmm?  Oh, nothing."

"Nothing?"

_Whenever you say it's nothing..._

"Yeah, I was just—," she laughs, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious.  "It's just something silly I heard somebody say in my dream."

And before I am able to recover from that startling statement, Zell steps in and throws her the question I would have asked next.  "A dream?  Like, when?"

"Just now, when I was... uh, _out_.  What's wrong, guys?  You're both looking strange all of a sudden."

"Uh, I...," I begin, and then stop.  No.  No way.  It's insane.  But I have to say it.  "...I heard the same thing in my dream.  Just now.  When I was... out."

"You are _shitting me!"  The words, almost a screech, are from Zell.  "But that's impossible!  I mean, I—"_

"How do you mean?" interrupts a bewildered Selphie.  "You're not saying you heard it, too!"

"Well, I didn't exactly hear it," he stammers.  "But I dreamt that I _said_ it.  Uh, when I was out."

"You _said it?" I echo._

"Yeah.  I dreamt that I was this big G-Army soldier, and I got really drunk at a bar, in the dream that is—"

"Ward!" Selphie and I cry out together.  We look at each other the next moment, to say, again in one voice— "How do _you_ know?"

Mouth hanging open, Zell tries to speak and succeeds only in issuing empty gurgles and gasps for a minute.  "No way," he finally whispers.  "No f__king way."

"Guys," declares Selphie, "I'm really, really freaked out right now."

Oddly enough, that's my sentiment exactly.

Reviewing is the fastest way to get me to update!


	24. Timber

**VIGIL OF THE FATES**

**by**** PeterEliot (****egmont76@hotmail.com**)

**24.  TIMBER**

_"Hardly the mightiest country in the world, Timber is nevertheless one of the most majestic.  Stripped to its graphical essence the region may seem devoid of apparent appeal—on the world map it is a singularly unimpressive blot of plains, with no towering mounts nor deep valleys to attract careless eyes.  It is not a place to read about, but a place to lose oneself in, for the green unending sweep of forests that occupies the bulk of her territory bristles with the spirit of the pristine wild as awesome and free of human corruption as any ocean, desert, or fabled mountain range.  It is a land of dry jungles; let any who step into it unprepared be warned.  The author speaks from experience..._

_"...The city of Timber is as quaint as the wild flower of her forests, and her people free and generous, though rich in traditions.  How these spirited people will accept—if they will accept at all—the escalating demands of the Deling regime, which appears now all but resolved to claim their fatherland as a full-fledged colony under the Galbadian flag, remains to be seen..."_

_            —Excerpt from _Timber Manic 117

The aide walked with impatient steps, glancing around at the rusty establishment in distaste.  The TV station building was practically falling apart from years of disuse, and though repair work had been underway to put it back in usable shape, the portions that would not take part in the coming event—which was to say, most of it—were left neglected and filthy.  What a place to have a historic broadcast in, he thought as he neared the main studio.  The studio at least had been restored to a respectable condition, he was pleased to note.  Rich burgundy curtains were draped behind the podium, and dozens of crew were busy with the final phase of the setup.  The aide skimmed through the men and, spotting the director, pulled him aside by the elbow.

"I just got word from Deling City," the aide said.  "The president is arriving two hours behind schedule.  But he wants everything ready by three, and wants to proceed with the broadcast without any delay whatever the moment he gets here.  You will be ready, correct?"

"We'll be ready by two o'clock, sir."

"Good.  Should anything go wrong your paycheck won't be the only thing in jeopardy.  You know that, don't you?"

With those discreet words of motivation, the aide took leave of the studio and headed out of the station, keeping his nose covered with a handkerchief; the dust was making him sneeze.  A lavishly decorated boxcar lay parked in the shadow of the alley, guarded by troopers.  The aide rapped lightly on the window.  The blinders unfolded halfway, revealing inside the silhouette of an elegantly sculpted profile.

"Yes?" said a smooth, cool voice.

"Madame Ambassador," said the aide, bowing, "we have received communication that His Excellency will be arriving shortly after five this afternoon."

"What is causing this delay?"

"The chief advisors have raised fresh concerns regarding His Excellency's personal security."

"I understand the president's security concerns well," the ambassador replied, her voice unflappable.  "I have taken steps to ensure his safety during this trip.  Are they not found suitably reliable in the chief advisors' eyes?"

"Ah... I beg your pardon, Madame Ambassador.  The advisors, I dare say, are only trying to carry out their responsibilities—"

"Of course, I understand," said she.  "I do not mean to meddle with others' duties.  How are things progressing at the station?"

"They will be on standby hours prior to His Excellency's arrival."

"Please convey to them my appreciation of their speedy work."

"Yes, Madame Ambassador."

The blinders closed shut, ending the interview.  The aide shook his head as he walked away.  The woman was beautiful enough to bewitch, and unfailingly courteous too, and yet he could not remember once leaving her presence without a chill on his backside.  He consulted his watch.  "Not even one yet...  Maybe I should go for a quick drink," he murmured.

"Care for a drinking buddy?" someone said.

The aide halted his steps.  To his right, a tall youth stood against a lamppost in the shadows.  "Who are you?" asked the aide.  "This block is closed off to civilians for the day..."  He then noticed the long sword at the youth's side, leaning on his hand almost casually.  The blade was unsheathed, gleaming cold.  Before he could process his next thought the youth was in his face, and the tip of his sword at his throat.  The aide gulped, shocked into immobility at the stranger's speed.

"Make a sound, and I'll have no choice about cutting your throat," the swordsman said.  He could not be more than twenty, the aide noticed.  "As it is, I'm thinking I'll just knock you out for a bit if you cooperate."

"Wha... what do you want?"

"The keycard in your pocket."

"What keycard?"

The blade inched closer, forcing him back a step.  "Don't get smart with me, scumbag.  For the station entrance."

"...Even with the key, you won't get far," the aide said, sweating.  "There are dozens of guides posted throughout the station—"                                                            

The youth's blue eyes flashed with pleasure.  "Of course there are."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"What's taking them so long?" Selphie whined, surveying the half-deserted station platform yet once again.  It had been an hour since they got off the train, but there was no sign of their contact.

Zell was in no better humor.  "Keeping us waiting like some sorry-ass errand boys...  Hey, Squall, can we scrap the mission by, I dunno, default or something if the hiring party doesn't show up?"

"I think we're done waiting," Squall said, picking up his bag.

"Damn right, we are.  We oughtta just tape a sign to the wall that says 'Sorry, you blew it' and go home."

"No.  There—by the southern exit."

The SeeD's looked as prompted and saw a short, meek-looking boy whose wrist was banded by a black cloth.  They approached the newcomer.  Noting their advance, the boy immediately turned his gaze away and waited.

"Oh, the forests of Timber sure have changed!" he said, still not meeting their eyes.

"But the owls are still around," Squall replied.

"Though awfully late," Selphie added.

Facing them at last, the boy flushed.  "I apologize, sirs.  I'll explain later.  Please, this way."

The SeeD's had expected to be taken into the city proper.  They were surprised when the boy, who introduced himself as Watts, led them to another platform at the edge of the station.  A two-car train, considerably meaner-looking than the one that had brought them to Timber, was parked at the platform.  

"Are we going somewhere on that?" Zell asked suspiciously.

Watts looked around furtively as though making sure no one was listening, though they were quite alone in that part of the station.  "Actually, sir, that's our mobile headquarter.  A modified class-B lumber freighter, load capacity twelve hundred tons, sir.  Everyone is waiting for you."  He knocked on the door.  "Zone, sir, it's me."

The door glided open, and a young man's face appeared.  His glance swept over the SeeD's, and he motioned them inside.  "Welcome to Timber," he said.

The train started moving as soon as they boarded.  Within minutes they were out of the city.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"I apologize about the delay," Zone said.  Though only a few years older than the SeeD's, he wore a sickly green complexion and a nervous expression like an old man with indigestion.  "The Galbadians have tightened security in and around the city, and this train is kind of difficult to smuggle into the station."

"Does the tightened security have something to do with our mission?" Squall asked.  

"We'll explain that in a bit.  By the way, I'm Zone.  This fella that met you at the station is Watts, our intelligence man and mechanic."

Watts made a deep bow.  "I'm sorry I couldn't salute you properly before, sirs!  We might have been being watched."

"I am Squall Leonhart, the team leader," he replied.  He gestured to his teammates.  "Zell Dincht, and Selphie Tilmitt."

"At your service.  Nice to meet you!" Selphie said.

"Hope we get along," Zell followed.

"Welcome to the Forest Owls' headquarter," Zone said.  "We pride ourselves on being one of the best-organized resistance factions in Timber.  Our best operatives are young men and women who are resolved not to let Timber suffer another generation of Galbadian occupation, as well as older members who have been a part of anti-Galbadia movement since the Sorceress War period.  In the past we were responsible for a number of highly notorious operations, such as..."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," said Squall quickly, detecting a lengthy speech in the making, "but I have been ordered to review our contract with you before proceeding with the mission.  Are you the leader of your faction?"

"Ah, no.  That would be our princess, Rinoa."

"Where is she?"

"In her cabin.  Napping, I believe."

Squall arched his eyebrow.  "Napping?"

"Well, we've been working really hard on something big—which we'll discuss with you shortly.  She worked all night and was exhausted—"

"Fine.  But we need to speak with her, please."

Zone pointed down the hallway.  "Last cabin on your left."

"I thought you said she was sleeping," Zell said.

"Well," Zone coughed into his hand, "we've been meaning to wake her up ourselves, but she—uh, she's got a bit of temper, you know?  She doesn't take well to being disturbed, especially when we're the ones doing the disturbing.  But since you're guests and all, I'm thinking—"

Zell shook his head.  "Man, she's got you guys whipped.  No wonder you call her princess."

"We'll really appreciate it," Zone said, looking apologetic.  "Tell you what, Squall.  While you go and meet her, we'll have your things moved into your quarters."

"This is the last time for this sort of things."  Squall then turned to his team.  "Go with him.  I'll see about this princess."

Squall observed the cluttered train as he walked to the cabin.  He was beginning to be worried about this first mission.  "These guys don't seem to have it together," Selphie had whispered to him before he took leave of the group.  He feared that he might soon be agreeing with that assessment.  Hopefully the leader would turn out to be different, he thought, rapping on the door.  When no response came, he rapped again harder.  "Hello?" he called.  "Miss—Rinoa?  I am Squall Leonhart, one of the SeeD's you've hired."

No response.  Squall gritted his teeth.  First the hour-long wait, and now this...  Zell had been right; they were being treated like errand boys.  He turned the knob and found it unlocked.  So they want me to wake her up, he thought as he pushed the door open.  I will do that.

The cabin was surprisingly spacious, though all the more empty because of that.  But the hint of feminine occupancy was evident.  The bed was the most noticeable feature of the room, and in comparison with the bland metallic interior it was almost comically large and ornate.  For a moment Squall pictured the Forest Owls struggling to fit the bed through the small door at the command of their exacting leader, a faceless and austere dame.  The figure who lay curled on her side before him, however, seemed rather delicate in build.  Her face was turned away, obscured by the dark hair that fell over her neck and shoulder in smooth locks.  Without a blanket she looked cold.  He was just beginning to regret having barged in when she opened her eyes.

"...Zone?" she mumbled, half turning his way.  "You've gotten brave, coming into my room like this...  Hmm?"  She sat up, noting the stranger in her room.  "Who are you?"

"I am...," Squall began, sensing an involuntary frown take over his face while he took in the sleepy face, "Squall Leonhart, from Balamb Garden."  And then he knew why he was frowning.  So did the young woman on the bed.

"Hey, aren't you—" said his dance partner from the commencement ball, "...from that ball?"

Squall hesitated, not knowing what to say.  "...It would seem so."

Rinoa held his gaze, and then let out a disbelieving laughter.  "Are you going to tell me you're the SeeD assigned to my group?"

"Myself and two others."

"...Amazing," she muttered chuckling, looking down at the floor.  She then rose from the bed, walked over to him, and before he could see what was happening locked him in a swift embrace.  "Welcome," she whispered.

Carefully, and awkwardly, Squall disengaged himself from her arms.  "Thank you.  My team is ready for your briefing.  But first we need to—"

"We've been sending requests to the Garden for _ever_!" she cut him off with an exuberant grin.  "We hardly got a nod our way, until I decided to go to Balamb Garden in person.  I knew speaking directly with Mr. Kramer alone would do the trick.  And here you are."

Squall recalled her words from their first meeting.  "The headmaster was your appointment, then?"

"Not quite," she replied.  "Do you know Seifer Almasy?"

He managed to hide his distaste, but could do nothing about the surprise his voice betrayed.  "_Seifer_?"

"You do know him!"

"I... yes."

"He was the one that introduced me to your headmaster and arranged for the interview.  Say," she said, putting her hand on his forearm, "is he with you by any chance?"

"No.  He isn't a SeeD," Squall replied.  

"Of course not," she sighed.  "He was in a foul mood over that when I last saw him, though it wasn't his first time failing.  He'd promised me, you see, that when I came to Balamb he would be a SeeD.  Might even come to Timber and work for us, he'd said."

Squall mulled over the unexpected string of discoveries.  He suppressed a sigh of his own.  Things were already going steadily downhill, though the mission had not even properly begun.  He got the assignment _Seifer_ had wanted and which Seifer had helped engineer.  If ever there was a jinx...  He paused then.  Listen to me, he thought, chastising himself.  I've become quite the whiner.  This past week's been nothing but one long excuse to keep complaining...  How did I stand myself all this time? ...  Fine, he resolved; I'll shut up, and I will deal with things as they come.

"How is Seifer doing these days?" Rinoa asked, ending his reverie.

"I don't know.  I haven't seen him any more recently than you have."

"How come?  I thought you said you knew him?"

"I doubt there's anyone at Balamb Garden that doesn't know Seifer."

She laughed.  "He does rather stand out, doesn't he?"

"Yes.  Now we need to get back with the rest of the team, and review our contract—"

"Oh, sure.  I'm sorry you had to meet me like this.  I've been working late and needed a little rest.  What time is it, by the way?"

"Just about one o'clock."

"What?" she cried.  "But that's more than an hour behind schedule!"

"Your people showed up late at the station."

"Well, I'll be...  Come on, let's go."  Rinoa took his wrist and marched out of the cabin before he could say another word.  Leading him down the narrow hallway with quick strides, she made a stop by a steel door.  An ear-splitting mechanical scream burst out of the room when she dragged door open.  It was the train's engine room.

"How's everything?" Rinoa shouted into the room, cramped with machines and crew.

"Huh?" one of the crew screamed back, removing his earplugs.

"How is everything?" she shouted again.  The words were barely audible amid the noise.

"Just fine!"

"Afternoon, sleeping beauty!" another crew member hollered.

Rinoa pulled Squall into the doorway.  "Have you all met Squall?  He's from the Garden!"

"Hi, there!  So he's the one they sent, huh?"

"...Hello," Squall said, wincing as the engine let out an explosive sputter.

"You have to shout, or they can't hear you!" Rinoa yelled into his ear.

"Hello!" he shouted.

"Nice to meet you, young man!"

"Nice to meet you!"

"Oh, yes, I haven't told you my name!" said Rinoa.  "It's Rinoa!  Rinoa Heartilly!"

"What did you say?" he bellowed.

She put her mouth next to his ear again.  "RINOA!  RI-NO-A..."

Squall shut the door, closing out the noise.  

"...Heartilly," she finished.  "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Squall."

He took a moment before taking her extended handed, trying to keep his face free of scowls as his ringing ears readjusted to relative quiet.  

Got to deal with things as they come, he reminded himself.

Entering the briefing room where Zone, Watts, and the SeeD's were assembled, Rinoa shook hands with Zell and Selphie and, much to her delight and his embarrassment, followed it with a welcoming embrace.

"_You_ are the leader of Forest Owls?" exclaimed Selphie, impressed.  "But you are no older than us."

"Let's not dwell on ranks.  We are all pals here in our group.  On that note," Rinoa smiled angelically, facing Zone and Watts, "would you care to explain, old friends, why Squall here was forced to wake me up a full hour behind schedule?"

"Uh... we had a bit of trouble getting into the station," Zone stuttered.  "You asked to be woken up when the SeeD's were here, so we figured we'd let you sleep..."

"Hmm... and it didn't occur to you I might want to be notified of this delay, just hours before the operation?"

"Help me out here, man," Zone said to Watts.

"Latest intelligence, ma'am, and sirs," Watts said stepping forward.  "The arrival of the presidential express, tansport I.D. 20394, has been delayed by two hours.  It is expected to enter Timber Central at 5:14 P.M."

"So we have some extra time," Zone explained.

Rinoa leaned against a desk, thoughtful.  "Mm-hmm.  All right, I'll let you off the hook this time.  But count yourselves lucky, guys.  Had it been anyone other than Squall who came to get me—"

Don't go there, Squall thought in horror.  He did _not _want the ball to be brought up in front of everyone.

Thankfully Zell chose that moment to cut in.  "You seem to be getting ready for an operation.  Care to share with us?"

"That's why we are here, Zell," Rinoa answered.

"Just a moment," Selphie said, squinting at the Forest Owls' young leader.  "I might be crazy, but you look strangely familiar.  Haven't we ever—?"

"We may very well have.  Just weeks ago, I..."

"We need to get down to business," Squall spoke up for the firs time since entering the room.  "By the Garden's order we are to verify the particulars of the contract before accepting this mission."

"Oh.  All right, of course, but," Rinoa said, "will this take very long?"

"It depends on the contract details, which you should already know better than we do.  Why do you ask?"

"Well, like Zell said we are about commence with an operation.  It's a bold plan—we put it together on short notice after we learned you would be joining us.  We need to brief you three as soon as possible."

"The 'presidential express?'" Selphie asked.

"Yes.  As you heard, the train reaches Timber a little after five.  We need to have completed the operation sometime before then."

"What kind of an operation is it?"

"No doubt you already know about Timber's political situation for the last twenty years," Rinoa said, waiting for the SeeD's affirming nods.  "Well, the train due to arrive today is carrying Vinzer Deling."  

She paused and let the announcement sink in.  The SeeD's were very quiet.

"_The_ Vinzer Deling?" Zell asked, arms folded.

"You know any other?" Selphie said and got a glare from the boy.

"The Lifelong President of Galbadia," Rinoa confirmed.

"A dictator, sirs.  Not even popular in Galbadia anymore—approval ratings haven't gone up once in eleven consecutive quarters, sirs," quipped Watts.

Squall spoke up, addressing Rinoa.  "And what do you propose to do with him today?"

"We are going to abduct him."

Author's Notes

1.  Reviewing is always the fastest way to get me to update.

2.  You may have hard time recognizing Rinoa from here on.  I have modified her character more than any other in the game.  She will be a bit of a... _fox_; unpredictable, flirtatious and aloof in equal parts, aristocratic even.  (Hey, she is the daughter of a general after all.  I think there's a reason the Forest Owls call her "princess.")  And smart.  Very.  I'll confess from the outset: I do not do this because I think that's the way her character is in the game, but because I'll have more fun writing the story this way.  And I've _got_ to have fun if I am to keep writing.  No doubt you've detected a shift in the writing thus far—I began with a fairly straightforward cut-and-paste-the-game-script approach in the first ten chapters, and since then have been modifying that script more and more.  I hope you can put up with it.  I promise you, however, that I won't do anything like a total rewriting of the game.  That is, all the major events will pretty much unfold the way they do in the game.  Squall is not going to hook up with Quistis, Seifer will not decide for a sudden change of heart, and Ellone is not going to turn out to be an alien from the outer space.

3.  If anyone knows how to adjust the text margins on FF.net, _please_ enlighten me.  I'm sick of seeing all my paragraphs reduced to a single line on the screen because they are stretched too thin.  Is there a way of leaving the right half or so of the screen blank?  I don't know a thing about html and all that stuff, by the way. 

4.  Reviewing is the fastest way to get me to update.  Waitasec, did I already say that...?


	25. Snatch and Run

**VIGIL OF THE FATES**

**by**** PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)**

**25.  SNATCH AND RUN**

"What a shame Grandpa couldn't see this," Zell muttered, looking out the train window at Timber's green landscape.

Squall looked up from writing.  "Your grandfather?"

"He got to be a hero fighting Deling's henchmen, you know," he answered.  "When Deling tried to get Balamb.  And here I am, gettin' ready to kidnap that ass.  Grandpa'd have been _so_ proud of me."  He began to crack his knuckles.

"Zell, are you nervous?" Selphie asked, tying her shoes.  Like the boys she had changed into a simple jump suit in preparation for the operation.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Well, that's the third time you're cracking your knuckles."

Zell stopped his hands and leaned back against the wall, nettled.  "It's a habit, is all."

"I wouldn't blame you if you were nervous.  We are after all trying to kidnap the head of a nation."

"I'm not nervous.  Well," he corrected himself, "maybe just a little.  But only because I don't know how thorough this plan of theirs is.  I mean, talk about rushing into things!  'Hi, welcome to Timber, nice to meet you—by the way, we're snatching the world's most powerful man this afternoon.  Please get to work.'"

Selphie giggled.

"God knows I'm not the most careful guy around," Zell continued, "but if only the Garden's orders hadn't been so dang vague...  They can't expect the three of us to liberate a city, can they?"

"We'll definitely have to check with the Garden over this one," agreed Selphie.  "I hope we aren't making a huge blunder in the meantime."  She moaned.  "I'm just... so conflicted about this!  It'll be either the biggest first operation ever for any rookies—or the biggest flop in the history of SeeD, if the Garden disapproves of it!"

"I guess that's more stuff for you to put in the field report," Zell remarked to Squall, who continued writing on his notepad.  "How's that coming?  Why aren't you typing instead?"

"I'm just jotting some notes before I forget," replied Squall.  "I'll write up the report later."

Selphie sat across from the desk, chin in both palms.  "Are you including our dream on the train?"

Squall paused briefly.  "Yes," he answered, then went on writing.

"I wonder how the Garden will take to that one...  Maybe they'll think we 'took a trip' together or something and demand a drug test and a psych eval."

"I did find something from the passenger manifest.  It might not mean anything," Squall said, causing his teammates to listen up.  "One of the passengers boarded armed.  He had a sword, apparently."

"Huh...  Where did he get on the train?" asked Zell.

"Balamb."

"Seriously?  What was his name?"

"He didn't give it."

"Better and better.  We'll have to check it out," Selphie said.

"We will.  I don't know how his being armed would bear on what happened to us, though."

"Three of us having the same dream at the same time... now how freakish is that?" Zell said, pillowing his head with his arms.  He huffed.  "I give up.  Somebody up there is obviously playing around with our heads."

"Since Zell was Ward in the dream," Selphie wondered aloud, flicking her fingers one by one, "and I was Kiros—does that mean you were Laguna, Squall?"

Squall debated whether to tell her.  But clearly she knew the answer already.  "...I guess, yeah," he answered reluctantly.

"That is so funny!" she cried, breaking into a giggle.  "I mean—that Laguna!  Can you imagine a guy more unlike you?"

Zell joined her laughter across the room.  "I don't know what they were about, but they sure were funny guys."

"Oh, no, Laguna's finally lost it for good!" Selphie imitated a man's deep voice.

"Stay calm, corporal—we were fated to deal with this emergency!" returned Zell, faking alarm.

"Fated, yeah—but hardly _prepared!_"

They cracked up.  Squall bore the scene with a set mouth, but the corners of that mouth twitched upwards as he recalled the exchange from the dream.  Funny guys they were indeed.  Even if he had played the clown's part.

"Oh, my God!" roared Selphie, clutching her side.  "They could not be for real!  D'you suppose they really exist?"

"Who knows?  It'd sure make our job easy if all G-Army soldiers were like them," Zell answered.

"He was handsome, though," she sighed.

"Who?"

"Laguna.  Hey, hey," Selphie said turning back to Squall, "what happened with Julia after you two were alone?"

"What do you mean, after _we_ two were alone?" Squall replied, nettled.

"You know what I mean.  Come on, what happened?"  

"She was one fine-looking lady," nodded Zell.

Squall closed his notepad.  "Nothing happened.  I woke up shortly after you... after the others left.  You did too, didn't you?"

"Aw, c'mon.  She was interested in you.  You sure nothing at all happened?  Too shy to tell us?"

"It wasn't—"

"He's probably telling the truth," Zell said.  "I mean he was a pretty stinky mess.  She probably ran off the second she got a good whiff."

"It wasn't me!" Squall growled.  He shoved the notebook into his bag and tightened the mouth like he was strangling it.  "...Not that you two weren't a filthy mess, yourselves.  And drunk senseless."

"Ho!" Zell chortled, clapping.  "And the man bites back!"

"That's not fair.  Zell's the only one that got drunk senseless," Selphie protested.  "I'm amazed he even remembers anything from the bar."

"Hey, I remember everything just fine, thank you.  Ward's the one that got drunk—I didn't."

"Exactly," Squall said.

"Practically speaking there's no difference," she said.  "I saw through Kiros' eyes; I acted in his body; I spoke his words; I knew his thoughts.  I _was _him."

"No, you weren't," Squall said.

"Of course I was.  How else would you define a person?"

"You are you, and just you.  You can't be anybody else."

"That's just semantics.  But the reality we experienced clearly—"

"What reality?  It was a dream."

"It couldn't have been a simple dream, not if all three of us were in it together."

"I don't know about the rest of you," Zell said, holding up both hands, "but I _know_ I ain't no seven-foot-tall harpoon-toting Galbadian corporal."

"According to your existing self-image.  But for all practical intents and purposes, we _were_ those men during those five hours—or two days, depending on whose time frame—"

"Not possible," Squall said flatly.

"Would you have thought three people sharing a dream possible?" Selphie returned.

"...I'm getting a headache," Zell said.

"It might have been telepathy of some kind, who knows?"

"So you're all right with telepathy being possible?"

"It's been known to happen."

"As have premonitory dreams, and visions shared by more than one person at the same."

"Guys, can we pick this up after the operation?"

"You don't just become another person out of the blue!"

"How old were you in the dream, Squall?  You know, don't you?  Well, how would you know when no one mentioned it?"

"It wasn't _me!_"

"People, can we—"

"My point, exactly!  It wasn't you, but it _was_ somebody else, and _you_ were him."

"Baloney!"

"Will you two just shut the hell up and cool off?  We got an operation in ten minutes!"

"Prove to me how it's baloney!"

"Er... I'm sorry to barge in, but," said a fourth voice.  Squall, Zell, and Selphie ceased shouting.  The door was ajar, and Rinoa poked in her head.  "We are ready to go.  How about you?"

Squall coughed.  "Yes.  Yes, we are.  Ready."

"All right," Rinoa said unsurely, not coming in.  "Please join us in the briefing room."  The door closed.  The SeeDs were left by themselves again.

"She thinks we're nuts," Zell said.

Selphie poohed.  "Why would she?  She only saw us having a lively discussion."

"She'd been listening in."

"Oh."

Squall brushed back his locks, and coughed again.  "Get your weapons.  Let's go."

Rinoa awaited them in the briefing room along with Zone, Watts, and four armed members of Forset Owls.  "We are approaching the interception point," she announced after introducing the new faces to the SeeDs.  "Squall and Selphie, you will team up with Watts and wait for Deling's train at the interception point.  Follow his lead and provide assistance and cover.  Zell and the rest of us will go ahead and wait for you at the contact point."

"All right," Squall answered, reviewing the operation plan in his head.

Rinoa nodded.  "Let's cover the basics one more time.  The presidential express has three cars—the primary locomotive at the front, our target car which carries Deling in the middle, and an extra car at the rear carrying most of the enemy guards.  After disconnecting the train, we must get rid of the cars at either end of the target and make away with it.  We do this by disabling the rear car, and then diverting the locomotive to another route."

"Understood."

"Good luck, all of you," she smiled at Squall's team.  "We'll be waiting."

"I won't fail you, Rinoa!" said Watts, saluting.

"I don't know how this will go down with the Garden, but," Selphie said smirking to Squall as the team moved out, "this will definitely be a lot of fun."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

A lonely pair of railroads cut across the vast woodland of Timber, the sole interruption in the continuity of the landscape.  The rails were carefully kept clear of vegetation; the abundant forest to either side was constantly encroaching upon them, threatening derailment.  One hefty clump of bush, however, sat separated from its brothers and prominently close to the tracks.  Only the most observant eyes would have caught the tiny railcar hidden inside the bush, and the three youths in helmets who sat hunched on it.

"You know," Selphie opened her mouth, "I've seen this a lot in cartoons.  But I never thought I'd get to hide inside a fake shrub in real life."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Watts said, "but there are only woods and railroads for forty-six miles in any direction.  This is about as inconspicuous as we can get."

"How old are you, Watts?" Squall asked.

"Fifteen, sir."

"None of us are over seventeen.  Could you drop the 'ma'am' and 'sir'?"

"Sorry, sir.  It's the way I've always talked, sir."

"Never mind."

"How much longer?" Selphie said.

"About nine and half minutes, ma'am."  Watts reached to the side of the railcar.  It was a ludicrously flat contraption—roofless, windowless, doorless, and consisting of wheels, a skeleton frame, and a curiously large engine.  The boy retrieved a hook launcher and handed it to Selphie.  "Here you go."

"What's this?"

"A hydraulic hookshot, ma'am.  For jumping onto the train.  Reinforced tungsten; good for up to five hundred and fifty pounds per square inch, ma'am."

"You insinuating I'm heavy? ...Anyways, thanks, but I won't be needing it."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, the presidential express is seventeen feet and seven inches tall and there is no ladder—"

"Trust me; I won't need it.  I'll show you why you guys hired us."

"Yes, ma'am.  Of course, ma'am."

After that the team returned to silence.  Minutes went by while the afternoon heat built up steadily inside the bush.  At last the ambience of the deserted railway was broken by a faint rumble in the distance.  Squall peeked out to the south.  "There it comes."

"It's about to get real noisy," Watts said, passing out earplugs to the SeeDs.  "Here, sir.  You too, ma'am."

"How are we gonna talk to one another if we can't hear?" Squall said.

"It's fitted with a communication device, sir—will reduce all sounds except our voices to twenty-three percent or less of original decibels.  Good for up to a hundred and eighty yards, sir.  When we get close enough to the headquarter train we'll be able to speak to Rinoa also."

"All right, let's do it!" Selphie said, putting in the plugs under her helmet.  

Squall and Watts lied down flat on the railcar's long twin seats.  They were nothing more than crude cushion pads.  Watts faced forward, while Squall faced the rear.  Selphie climbed and crouched on the engine mount.  She had no seat at all, only a strap of belt that secured her to the vehicle.  Once everyone was in position, Squall stretched out both gloved hands and Selphie took them.  Watts started the car.

"One mile," Squall informed the team.  Facing backwards, he was the only one with a view of the train.

"Remember, once the belt's gone, you're the only thing keeping me on the car," Selphie said, giving him a squeeze and a mock scowl.  "You let me go, and I'll make you regret it!"

"I won't. ...Three-quarter."

The engine's pitch rose, and the railcar began to quiver in earnest.  Watts clutched the levers and took a deep breath.  "I'll be hitting full throttle as soon as we are on the track, sirs!  Hold on!"

"Five hundred yards!  Four...  Three...  Two..."

Within seconds of Squall's words an ominous tremor seized the earth.  Thanks to the earplugs they were spared from the piercing screech that ensued.  Not ten feet to their right the train shot past them, slashing the wind like an arrow.  The next moment they were looking at its rear, diminishing into the woody horizon.                                   

The railcar sprang out of the bush.  With a jolt it scrambled onto the railroad.  The wheels, configured to fit between the rails, sparked when they caught onto the track.  Watts threw down the gear, and the chase began.

"Boo-ya-kah!" Selphie cried.  The air rushed against her like a wave.  "What did I tell you?  Is this fun or what?"

"Selphie, don't yell," Squall said, flinching.  He was still lying backwards holding her by the wrists.  Fine dust rose in the car's wake, and from his angle it was about all he could see.  "It's like you're screaming right into my ears."

"How long till we reach the intersection?"

"Maybe fifteen minutes.  Are we getting closer?"

"It's got a good quarter mile on us.  Watts, we gotta go faster!"

"We're closing in, ma'am!  We'll be catching up soon!" Watts shouted back, wiping sweaty palms on the levers.

"Doesn't look that way to me!  Are you sure this thing can outrun that train?"

"An eight-cylinder rotating engine; extra pressurized; two thousand four hundred and eighty combustion cycles per minute, good for up to one hundred and twenty-nine miles per hour, ma'am!"

"You call this one twenty-nine?  Come on, show us what you got!"

"Selphie, quit screaming!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"Sir?"

"Yeah," answered the captain, looking up from his sandwich.

"It's two minutes till the hour."

"Already, huh."  The captain put his feet down from the seat across.  He got up, wiping his mouth with a napkin.  "Nothing unusual?"

"No, sir."

"Get me a beer while I'm gone, will you?"

The captain stepped out to the hallway, brushing crumbs off his uniform.  An unusually long cabin lay adjacent to the officers' lounge.  He rapped on the door lightly.  "It's Captain Rams, your excellency."

"Come in."

The room was splendidly furnished.  Only the muted vibration, barely perceptible through the soundproof walls, betrayed the moving train.  The captain saluted the man who sat in an opulent love seat reading a newspaper.  A steaming cup of tea lay on the table.

"Hourly security report, sir," said the captain.  "No anomaly has been reported.  As of sixteen hundred hours all is on schedule and the train is expected to enter Timber at—"

"As it was at fifteen hundred hours, and at fourteen hundred," said the main in suit, who did not look away from his paper.  He took a slow sip of the tea.  "Really, captain, must you put me through these hourly annoyances?"

The captain sniffed and frowned.  There it was again, stronger than before.  A strange smell lingered in the air, bordering on pungent.  The man before him did not seemed to mind.  "I apologize, your excellency.  The security advisors were emphatic on today's procedures..."

"All right, all right, have it your way.  Must do as the advisors say, I suppose.  I am only the head of the country after all," said he, turning a page.

"I intend no insolence to your excellency—"

He waved him away.  "Off you go, captain.  I look forward to our next meeting at seventeen hundred hours."

The captain saluted and turned on his heels.  He paused before exiting.  "Begging pardon, excellency," he said, "but should I have someone clear out the air in your cabin?"

The president stilled his hands while turning another page.  "How do you mean?" he said, somewhat sharply.

"There seems to be a curious odor hanging about.  Perhaps a mouse or some such thing got trapped in the vent—"

"Thank you, captain," said the older man, matching his gaze for the first time.  "It must be your fancy.  In any case I'd rather not be disturbed."

"Of course, sir."

Back in the lounge the captain returned to his snack and contemplated the grouch next door that was the President of Galbadia.  The sandwich tasted flat.  Maybe the smell killed his appetite.  He wondered since when the president's eyes had been so yellow.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"How far?" Squall said.

"We're about to kiss it," Selphie answered, loosening the straps that fastened her to the car.  She rose to her knees.  The wind hit her chest like a punch and she staggered back.  Squall's hands round her wrists stayed her.  "Whoa!"

"Careful!"

"All right, Watts.  Try to keep the distance at about fifteen yards, no closer," she said, eyes fixed on the silver mass looming ahead.

"Yes, ma'am," Watts replied.  The rail car reduced speed to match the train's.  They trailed the target at a spitting distance.  They could almost feel the heat emanating from it.

"A little closer.  Squall, you can unhook me."

"I recommend you keep the belt on until we catch up completely, ma'am," Watts said.

"How do you expect to jump with this thing on?"

"Jump?  From here, ma'am?"

Free of the restraint, Selphie struggled to her feet against the wind, clutching Squall for support.  "Let go at the count of three," she told him.

"Wait, ma'am!" Watts cried.  "Let me get closer first—"

"Hold the distance.  Ready, Squall?"

"But, ma'am!"

"Let her do it," Squall said.  He nodded at the girl who stood perched at the car's edge.  "Right, on the count of three."

"One... two... "

Selphie leapt.  The kickback rocked the car for an instant.  Watts looked up in time to see her small form, dark in the afternoon sun, disappear over the train's roof.  His mouth dropped open.  There was a brief buzz from the earpiece, then Selphie's voice came.  "A beautiful landing.  Don't you think, boys?"

"Didn't get to see it, sorry," Squall said, turning in his seat to face forward.

"That was awesome, ma'am!  Just awesome!" Watts burst out.  "Totally, totally incredible!  I've never seen anything like it in my life!"

"Why, thank you."

Squall positioned himself next to Watts, who could not contain his excitement.  "Selphie, we need you on the middle car."

"Already there, sweetie."

"Take the controller, sir," Watts said, pointing to the lever.  "Forward to accelerate, backward to reduce.  One click forward is one additional mile per hour and vice versa."

"What about these?" Squall said, pointing to the other switches.

"Whatever you do, don't touch them, sir."  

"...Okay."                                 

"All right," Watts said, lying on his back so that he faced the sky.  He took in a lungful of shaky breath.  "Take us under, sir.  Accelerate by one click, please."

"We're going in, Selphie," Squall said.

"I'll let you know if anything happens.  Be careful down there."

"You don't have to tell me," Squall muttered, watching the train get bigger and bigger in his field of vision.  A gap no taller than three feet lay between Mother Earth and the belly of the speeding train.  A rock and a very hard place.

"It's a lot more room than under most cars, sir.  I've worked under a lot of'em," Watts said.  He would have been more reassuring if he didn't already have sweat bullets running down his face.

"How many have you worked under while they were running?"

"Point taken, sir."

"Here we go.  Keep your head down..."

Inching onward, the railcar was received into the train's shadow.  Darkness fell upon the two boys.  They were no longer in open space.  The sky was gone, replaced by the underside of the train inches over their heads.  The trees to their either side were gone too, and in their place were even rows of spinning wheels staring them in the face, close enough to reach out and touch.

"What now?" Squall asked.

"We get under the middle car, sir," Watts replied, frozen perfectly still, arms glued to his sides.  He was face to face with the jagged underside that threatened to brush his nose.  "Then we fasten our car to it and set about disconnecting it at both ends."

"Are you all right, guys?" Selphie's voice came through.

"We're fine, ma'am.  Passing under the rear car now.  We'll be right underneath you in a bit."

"I see the first link ahead," said Squall, wiping his face.  The train was quite heated where they were, and they were taking it all in the faces.

"Hooks, sir," Watts said, reaching for his side of the car.  Squall followed suit.  The twin pair of hooks were wired to the car so that they could be extended.  Steadily they moved along under the train until they reached the connector that linked the locomotive to the middle car.  "We'll hook up here, sir."

"Where do you want it?"

"Do you see the cylinders by the wheels, with pipes running through them?"

"Yeah," Squall said, and was about to reach for it with the hook.

"Keep clear of those, sir.  You'll burn yourself."

Squall stayed his hands.

"Do you see the thick black cables, as thick as your arms, going from axle to axle?"

"Here?"  He moved to place the hook around one.

"Don't touch those either, sir.  You could be electrocuted real easy."

He stopped again.

Watts pointed to a square protrusion above the wheels closest to them.  "Sir, do you see that box, marked '02?'"

"What will that do?" Squall asked wearily.

"Nothing, sir.  Lock the hook around the shaft right there."

"Oh."

"Okay, sir," Watts said when that was done, "we are about to be dragged some.  Hold on."  He then killed the railcar's engine.  It lagged behind for a second, and jerked back when the hooks tightened, holding it in place.  They clutched their seats.  Watts readied the tools.  "Crank up the hooks, sir.  Bring us back under the link."

"How's it going down there?" Selphie spoke.

"He's setting up the decoder.  We'll be cutting the cars loose in a few minutes."

"Just letting you know we're passing the twenty-mile mark until the cross point."

"Not to worry, ma'am," Watts said, hands busy on the interface he had attached to the connector.  "She'll be in three pieces before she goes another ten miles."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"What's that?" said the trooper.

His partner looked out the window as prompted.  Same old landscape they had been seeing for two hours.  "What's what?"

"Something just moved on the roof."

The other trooper scowled.  "What are you, messing with me?  How the hell did you see the roof out the window?"

"The shadow, moron—look."  The first trooper pointed at the train's shadow that stretched along outside, casting its dark contour on the ground.  "I think I just saw somebody's shadow on the roof."

"You sure?"

"It was only for a second..."

"Coulda been a mechanic."

"Uh-huh, a mechanic would work on top of a train that's doing ninety, right?  You really are a moron.  Where do you get these ideas?"

"Hey, get off my back.  If you saw something, go tell the cap'n."

"If it turns out to be nothing, I'll look like an idiot..." he said, looking out at the shadow again.  "Come on, let's go check it out."

The other trooper took a swig from his bottle.  "It's your fancy.  You take care of it."

"Come on, man.  Let's go," he said, taking the bottle away.

"Aw, dammit..."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"Decoder 1 is almost installed," said Squall.  "We are moving to the other link."

"I wish I got your job," Selphie said, yawning.  "It's no fun up here at all.  I'm just sitting and watching."

"You'll be busy once the cars are loose."

"Hey, this Deling guy is supposed to be right under my feet, right?  Why don't I crawl down and peek through the window, make sure he's...?"

"Don't do that."

"Kidding."

"Okay, sir," Watts said, replacing the tools.  "I'm done here.  Take us down to the next one."

Squall slackened the wires that bound them to the train.  The railcar began to slip backwards slowly.  It came to a halt beneath the second and final link.  Unscrewing the connector's circuit box open, Watts got down to installing the second decoder.

"Like using a hairpin to unlock a door, sir," he said as he peeled the cables.  "We intercept the connector circuits and make it think our decoder is the computer onboard the train.  It can't tell between a key and a hairpin so long as they nudge the same places."

"How does it feel to work between the wheels of a running train, Watts?" Selphie said.

"Getting used to it, ma'am."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"Is this the door to the roof?"

"What, you've never been up there before?"

"Of course I haven't, you dolt.  It's our first time on the train."

"Well, why didn't you speak to the staff first?"

"Let me see here...  How do you open this thing?"

"I'll bet you need a key or something."

"'...In case of emergency, pull the red handle until it clicks and twist counterclockwise...'"

"It also says 'Forbidden for use by non-staff personnel.'  I'm outta here."

"Quit yapping and help me.  Dang, this hatch is heavy..."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"I'll be done in a couple of minutes," Watts said, wiping his beaded brows.  "Sir, get the charge, please.  Switch it on and attach it magnet side up, and it'll stick."

"Where do you want it set up?"

"Anywhere, sir.  Just be sure it's not on our side."

"That's right, Scarface.  Unless you want it to blow up in your face," laughed Selphie.  "That'll give you some extra scars."

"Be ready to cover us.  Keep your eyes on all exits."

"Aye, aye, captain.  Rest assured I am totally on _top _of things...  Wait," she said sharply.

"What is it?"

"Hatch number two is lifting.  I'll be right back."

Taking the plugs out of her ears, Selphie ran to the far end of the car.  The blaring noise returned with vengeance.  She hopped down into the gap between the cars.  Planting her toes on the wall, she hung onto the roof.  The door was thrown open with a clunk.  A rifle muzzle first appeared through the opening, then the helmeted head of a Galbadian trooper.  He swept the rooftop with a glance, then stepped onto it.  The wind nearly pushed him off his feet.  Cursing, he crouched low and began to walk with cautious, crawling steps along the roof.

Selphie took a quick peek at the newcomer.  He was coming her way.

"Down here, Selphie," Squall called.

She looked down.  From under the train Squall poked out his head, peering up.  She freed a hand to retrieve an earpiece.  "One guard, coming this way," she said.

"Alone?"

"Think so."

"Watts is almost done.  If you have to take him out, don't give him a chance to fire his weapon."

"Okay.  Now shut up."

The soldier was only a few dozen steps away.  Selphie explored her options in the surroundings.  Off to her right, beyond the corner, a curtained window caught her eyes.  It had just enough of a ridge for her to grab onto.  It was fifteen feet away.  If she missed it she would hit the ground at almost a hundred miles per hour.  Could she do it?  She grinned.

Of course she could.

Selphie leapt off the wall.  Her right hand missed the window.  Her left caught the ridge.  She dangled for a second, the trees to her right wheezing by in a green blur, then she dug her feet into the window sill.  In another second she had raised herself onto the roof.  She found the trooper, his back turned on her, approaching the corner where she had been hanging moments before.  She retrieved the nunchaku from her side.

"Hey!" she called in a hiss.

The soldier whirled around, eyes wide.  He saw the flying nunchaku before he spotted her.  It struck his weapon.  Sparks flashed, and the soldier released the rifle with a cry, stunned.  The nunchaku was charged with a thunder spell.  He fell back on his bottom clutching his hand.  Selphie spread her palm over him.

"This won't hurt a bit," she said, feeling the palm grow cool from the gathering spell.  The soldier's eyes crossed over, flickering, then they slid shut.  He collapsed on the rooftop soundlessly.  "Boys, I've put him to sleep," she said.

"We're ready for disconnection," Squall replied from below.

"You be sure to report Miss Tilmitt won the first engagement of the operation," she said merrily. 

Shots rang out then.  What felt like a dozen punches slammed into her backside.  She was thrown forward over the fallen Galbadian soldier.  Below, the boys froze.  

"Selphie?" Squall called out.  "Selphie, talk."

"Ow," came her voice, strained in pain.  "Doggonit—I guess he had a partner."

"Are you hit, ma'am?" Watts cried, horrified.

"I'm all right...  Oh, shoot!"  The Galbadian fired again, and she dodged out of the way.  He was shooting from the hatch.  "Squall, I'm sure he's alerted the others.  I'll take care of him.  You cut the cars loose."

"Roger," he replied.  "Do it, Watts."

Watts flinched at the gunshots above.  "You should go help her, sir!  Isn't she hit?"

"A few bullets won't harm her.  Cut the cars."

"A few bullets?"

"Watts, they'll be sweeping the train any moment!"

"Ah, yes, sir!"

Watts activated both decoders at once.  A barely perceptible tremor shook the train.  The links released their grips on one another, and slowly the train moved apart in three massive blocks.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"What the hell happened?" cried the captain, running through the hallway.

"They pulled the cars loose, sir!" a guard shouted back.

"They did _what_?  How the hell did they do that?"

"Enemy engaged on the roof!" another cried.  

"Dammit...  Any hostile vehicles?"

"No, sir!  Whoever they are, they are right here on the train."

"They can't be many, then.  Come with me!  We have to cover the president's cabin," said the captain, cocking his weapon.  

Since they had bothered to disconnect the cars they were not after the president's life, he thought as he led the troops.  They wanted to capture him alive.  He had only a few men on this car; he had to hook up with the rest on the rear car, which was now trailing behind them.  The gap was widening quickly.

When his thought had progressed thus far, a tremendous boom rang throughout the train, stopping him cold.  "What was that!" he cried.  "Are we hit?"

"Sir!" said a trooper, pointing out a window.  "It's the car behind us!  It's on fire!"

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"The rear car is disabled," Selphie said.  "It's falling behind fast.  It'll never catch up to us."

"Did you get the guy that shot you?" Squall asked.

"He's sleeping next to his buddy."

"The rest of his buddies will come after you.  Seal off the hatches and cover the right side.  I'll cover the left from where I am."

"Roger."

"All right," Squall said to Watts.  "Let's get to the front end."

"Yes, sir!"

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"What do you mean, the hatches won't open?"

"They've done something to them, sir!  I tried firing on them, but they won't budge."

"Of course they won't," seethed the captain.  "Every door on this train is bulletproof.  They're sealing us in so we can't get to them.  Holy shit!" he cried in realization, "that's what they are up to!"

"Captain?"

"The manual control is not responding!  I can't alter our speed!" a mechanic cried.

"They're not trying to come into the car at all," the captain said.  "They plan to run off with the whole damn train, us and all."

"Hijack?  But, wouldn't they need the locomotive to get away?"

"The locomotive is just what they don't need.  This train is designed to run for hours even if the locomotive is disabled."

"But so long as the locomotive is in front of us, they can't get away with just this car.  Will they try to turn us around?"

"The car they blew up is blocking the track, so they can't do that.  Their only option is to get the locomotive out of the way altogether.  Where is the nearest intersection?"

"About five, six minutes away, sir."

"That's where they will try to divert us onto another track.  We have to get to them before then!"

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"Squall, the second door on my side is opening.  They're trying to come out."

"Roger that."  Squall turned to Watts.  "I have to get up there.  Stay low and keep out of sight."

"Good luck, sir!"

Grasping the bottom edge of the train, Squall crawled out from the underside.  His feet dragged on the ground, much to Watts' terror, but quickly he found footing and climbed onto the front wall.  He peered from the corner.  Through the open door a pair of troopers espied the outside, guns drawn.  Squall flattened himself against the wall.

"Do you see them, Selphie?" he said.

"Yeah.  How should we get them?"

"We don't want to damage the train.  Let's freeze up the doorway."

"Ready when you are."

"I'll go first.  No point in both of us giving ourselves away.  Watch for backups."

"All right."

Squall emerged from the corner, clutching it with one hand while the other took aim for the door.  The troopers spotted him but had no time to react.  Ice crystallized at the doorway with a blinding speed, engulfing it in white.  The enemies' startled yells came mixed with stray shots.

"What the f__k is this?"

"Where is he?" 

"Behind the front wall!"

A window slid open, and another trooper pushed his head out.  He only fired three shots in Squall's direction before Selphie reached down from the roof and poured a blast of blizzard into the window.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"_Ice_?" the captain echoed.

"Yes, sir.  I don't think we're dealing with ordinary terrorists..."

"Sir!  All exits are blocked!" cried a sergeant, rushing in.  "They've frozen everything—even the windows!"

"Goddammit—we've got no choice," growled the captain.

"Sir?"

"We have to blow out the engine.  Once the car stops, the troops on the locomotive can deal with the enemies.  We're finished if we get separated completely from the locomotive."

"Captain, sir!"

"What, now?"

"Another train, captain!  It's approaching from behind!"

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"The H.Q. is in sight, sirs!" Watts said.

"About time," Selphie said, rubbing her shoulder.  It felt bruised from the shots it took.

The Forest Owls' train caught up quickly, running on the track next to theirs.  The two trains ran side by side.

"How are you, SeeDs?" came a cheery voice through the earpieces.

"Rinoa?" Squall said.

"None other.  Excellent work, all of you.  We'll be crossing over in a minute."

"Is Zell there?"

"Yo!" Zell's voice came in.

"I think we have this car covered pretty good," Squall said.

"I can see that—looks like an ice box on wheels," Zell chortled.

"They must know our plan by now.  Let's make sure the locomotive doesn't get near us."

Squall had hardly finished the sentence when rapid shots erupted from the locomotive.  The Galbadians were firing upon Forest Owls' train.

"There they go," Zell said.  "All right, I'll see you in a minute."  He turned to the Forest Owls in the room.  "I'm going.  Try to draw their fire."

"We'll do that," Rinoa answered.  "Good luck.  Remember, we need a gap of fifty yards."

"No problem."

Zell climbed to the rooftop.  The locomotive was running alongside the headquarter train.  A dozen guns glinted at the windows, spitting fire.  Shrill pings of bullets hitting metal filled the air.  He directed both arms at the enemy vehicle.  Aiming for the rear window he released two fireballs at once.  The flame cracked through the window, bursting in bright orange.  Thick smoke shot out from the other side.  Stunned, the Galbadians stopped shooting momentarily.

"Nice hit!" Selphie said.  "Went right through the car." 

Zell fired on the other windows.  He aimed well above the wheels.  They did not want to risk derailing the train.  The shooting all but ceased from the locomotive.  The vehicle trailed columns of black smoke.  The troops inside were busy putting out the fire.

"Give them a breather, Zell.  We can't have them crashing into us," Squall said, coughing.  He was taking the smoke from the locomotive ahead.

"Will do.  How much longer?"

"Hardly a mile.  You're doing good.  Keep them where they are," Rinoa said.

"What are these kids?" Zone said to her, shaking his said at the battered sight of the train.  "They're like walking artillery."

"They're SeeDs," she replied grinning.  "All right, shall we do this?"

"Anytime, Rinoa!" Watts said from the target car.

"Distance to the contact point?"

"Closing in thirty seconds."

"Watts, reduce speed at my signal," Rinoa said.  "Squall and Selphie, hold onto something if you aren't already.  Zell, hit them if they try to get closer.  Ready—now."

Watts clenched the safety belt and threw down the break.  The presidential train decelerated, wheels squealing against the rails.  In a flash the gap between the two unlinked cars widened to a snug hundred yards.  Swiftly the mobile headquarter moved in.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"Hijackers, you say?"

"They are trapped between this car and the locomotive, your excellency.  We will not let them get to you, sir.  They will not get past the next check point."

"Whatever you say, captain.  I leave it to your capable hands," the president said, yellow eyes placid.

The captain stared, straining not to betray his bafflement.  He had boasted out of obligation, but was this man even aware of the danger?  

"Ah, yes, of course, excellency.  The guards have the door to your cabin covered.  Anyone trying to get in here will first have to go through us—"

The train then jerked with a dull clap.  The captain almost fell forward mid-sentence.

"I think your presence is requested outside, captain."

"Pardon me, excellency," he said, hastening to the door.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

"We've linked with the target," Rinoa said.  "We'll be making our getaway shortly."

"I'm getting Watts out.  Open the door," Squall said.  With his foot planted on each car, he pulled the boy to the surface by hand.  The rear door of the headquarter opened.  Rinoa and Zone greeted them.

"Welcome home," she said.  She clapped Watts on the back.  He was drenched in sweat from the heat he had born under the train.  "Nothing you can't hot-wire in the world, right?"

"It was beautiful!" Watts cried, beaming.  "You should've seen it.  These SeeDs are amazing."

"Are you still on the roof, Zell?" Squall said.  

"Yeah.  They're keeping their distance.  I'll burn'em again if they try anything."

"Selphie, stay where you are and watch the exits.  We're breaking into the train.  You make sure no one gets out."

"Understood."

"The intersection is up ahead," Zone said.  "We're almost home free."

The track diverged into a wide V.  The disconnected locomotive took the east track.  The headquarter, dragging its spoil at the tail, slipped smoothly onto the west track.  They ran alone at last.

"Control room, accelerate to full speed," Rinoa said.  "Good work, everyone.  Let's get out of here."  

"Selphie, can you see the locomotive?" Squall said.

"Just barely," she said from the rooftop of the captured car, squinting into the distance.  "Wait... I think it's slowing down.  Yeah, it's slowing down—it's almost stopped.  I think they're trying to backtrack to the cross point.  They'll chase us, I bet."

"We can outrun them," Zone said with confidence.

"I say we don't let them chase us at all," Selphie said.

"I second that," Zell rejoined.  "I've got a terrestrial GF equipped.  Just say the word."

Some of the Forest Owls looked to one another unsurely.  "Er... what was that?" Zone asked, voicing their question.

Rinoa held up a hand.  "Let them do it."

"Go ahead," Squall said to Zell.  "Just the track."

"Don't be alarmed, folks," Zell said, stretching his arms towards the track behind them.  "It's just a small localized quake..."

The earth trembled violently where the spell materialized in force.  A mound sprang up like a bubble of soil, skewing the rails, and split apart with a gnashing groan.  The rails coiled and snapped.  Debris almost volcanic in appearance fell upon the site.

"Well... damn," Zone murmured, eyes riveted out the window.   

"What did I tell you?" Rinoa said triumphantly.  

"Get down here, Zell."  Squall faced Rinoa and the rest.  "We're securing Deling.  Zell and I will be on point.  You can come if you want, but the two of us should be enough."

One of the Forest Owls huffed.  "We aren't toy soldiers, you know."

"Fine, but leave the searching to us.  Stay near the entrance and take out anyone that comes your way.  Are we set?"

"We're set," nodded Rinoa.

Squall looked at the girl.  "You're coming too?"

"Of course I'm coming.  Here's Zell."

"Yo, Squall," Zell said running in, carrying Squall's gunblade.  He handed the weapon to its owner.  "We going in now?  How many are in there?"

"Selphie and I got several.  I think just a few."  He raised the sword at the sealed front door of the train.  "They're cornered.  Don't give them a chance to try anything desperate.  Ready?"

"Let's go."

Squall struck twice, slashing a wide cross into the door.  A followup of fire spell sent the door flying off the frame.  Not waiting for the smoke to clear, he charged in.  Zell ran after him.  Shooting started immediately from within.  Squall did not stop or dodge, rushing down the narrow hallway.  He struck down two troopers on the way.  The one he passed by had his cheekbone mashed in by Zell's fist.  

"Which cabin?" Zell cried.

"There, at the end!" Squall answered.  A soldier sprang out of a doorway, pistol aimed at them.  

"Freeze!  You're under arrest—"

Zell kicked the gun out of his hand.  Squall brought the back of the sword against his nape.  The soldier collapsed against a wall.  Zell frowned at the unconscious man.  "'You're under arrest?'  What was that, a joke?  A captain, I see.  Man... officers!"

"Deling's in that room," Rinoa said, catching up with the boys.  Zone and three other Forest Owls were behind. 

"We haven't cleared the whole car yet.  Go back to the entrance," Squall told her.

"No, I am there when we get this man."

"Step back.  I'm bashing in the door," Zell said, and then did just that.  The SeeDs rushed into the room.  The Forest Owls followed, guns raised.  

The cabin was quiet.  For a moment they thought it empty.  Then the stocky man seated at the coffee table turned their way.

"President Deling," Rinoa said, stepping forward.  "Your men have been subdued.  You are now in our custody.  Cooperate and you will be given humane treatment."

The president eyed the intruders coolly without words.

"Now then, get up from your seat please.  We're moving you to our train."

Deling remained seated and silent.  His face betrayed no reaction to the order.  

Zell towered over the old man.  "Hey, did you hear her?  Get up."  He sniffed the air then, wrinkling his nose.  "What the hell is this stink?  Tell me you didn't crap your pants—"

"Only brats," said Deling.  "It is a tad disappointing.  But I suppose you deserve credit for getting through the soldiers."

"What did you say?" Zell growled.  "Looking down on us, old smarty mouth?"

"I've no wish to relocate.  Your offer of civility is kind, young lady, but I am comfortable here.  Luxury isn't something I am used to, but it does grow on one quickly."

"Then you leave us no choice," Rinoa began, motioning to her comrades.  She stopped herself short, eyes narrowing.  "...Not used to luxury?  What are you trying to say?"

Zell took a step back.  His face was serious.  "Something's not right with this guy."

"What do you mean?" Zone said.

"Squall?" Zell said.

"I'm sensing it too," Squall answered.  "Are you sure we have the right man?" he asked the Forest Owls.

"What?  Of course we are sure—that's him."

"Aye," the old man said, "notoriety is a pesky thing.  The president is far too recognizable in this vicinity.  It is a good thing there is more than one of him walking about."

A shocked silence fell upon the assembly.  Rinoa lowered her gun, staring disbelievingly at the prisoner.

"A double?  Impossible!" Zone cried.  He walked up and grabbed the old man by the collar.  "You expect me to buy that crap, you lying scoundrel?  I wouldn't mistake _this_ face for another in the whole world!" he snarled.  Dull yellow eyes gazed back, dead as a fish's.  

"Hey, what's going on down there?" Selphie asked through the comm device.  No one answered her.

Rinoa was the first to speak.  "Save it, Zone.  We'll take him prisoner and see whether he's telling the truth."

"The son of a bitch is lying.  I know it."

"Enough.  For now we need to focus on our getaway.  The Galbadians will be looking for us."

"Oh, no, no.  You needn't worry about that," the president said.

"What?"

"The soldiers won't bother to look for you.  You see," said the old man, gripping Zone's wrist before he could react, "I am under orders to bring in your heads, myself."  He then thrust the other hand into the younger man's side.  Zone went rigid with a choked moan that never rose to a scream.  He crumpled forward.

"Zone!" Rinoa cried.  

Squall leapt at the enemy.  He jumped back, evading the sword.  His hand was stained crimson.  

The Forest Owls aimed their weapons at the double.  "You bastard!"

"We'll deal with him!  You get your friend out of here," Squall said.  "Rinoa, this man isn't human.  We'll have to kill him."

"What?" she cried.

"It's a friggin' undead," Zell growled.  "A half-rotten doll!  I should've known from the smell."

"Hee-hee... Who are you calling rotten?" grinned the old man.  He no longer quite seemed like a man.  Yellow eyes bulged grotesquely from the sockets, and his fingers were sharp with claws that hadn't been there a minute before.  "You'll be the ones rotting in the sun soon enough."

"Shut up, freak!" one of the Forest Owls cried, opening fire.  The creature dodged out of the way with the agility of a cat.  Two rounds caught it in the leg, but the hits did not seem to register.  It sprang at the shooter, claws outstretched.  They went down together.  The prey screamed.  Rinoa took aim at the creature, but Zell was on it before she could fire.  His kick sent the creature across the room.  It was back on its feet in a second.  Foul ooze darkened the suit where it had been shot.

"Didn't he tell you to get out?" Zell shouted at the Owls.  "Leave the freak to us!  Help Zone before he bleeds to death."

"Get him out of here, quick!" Rinoa ordered the men.  They nodded and took their prone comrade by arms and legs.

"It doesn't feel pain," Squall observed to Zell as they faced the creature.

"You got anything good?"

"I didn't think we'd be fighting an undead..."

"Good ol'fashioned slugging always works."

They ran together.  The creature was quick.  It caught Zell's kick with a claw closed round his ankle.  The boy next found himself thrown through the air.  He crashed on top of the night table.  Squall jabbed at the creature, pushing it into a corner.  Despite the proximity he unleashed a fire spell.  The flame engulfed them both, lighting up the corner with a loud crack.

"Your left!" Zell cried, getting back on his feet.

Squall saw the claw darting out of the fire.  He batted it away with the blade.  Severed fingers went flying.  Shots came then, hitting the creature in the chest.  It was knocked back.  Rinoa held a smoking pistol aimed at the creature.

"Leave him to us—" Squall began.        

Rinoa fired again until the clip ran empty.  Her right hand flashed white—and a burst of flame detonated against the creature, knocking it back farther.  The SeeDs looked at her in surprise.  

"I know a little," she said, answering their unvoiced question.

"Heh... brats," the creature croaked.  It was a revolting sight, burned and shredded like a corpse come back to life.  A whole cheek had come peeling off, exposing the gray flesh underneath.  A thick fluid, more bile than blood, trickled from the wounds.

"Give it up, mister zombie," jeered Zell.  His grin became a cough; the air was oppressive with the creature's stench.  "You're technically dead anyway.  Be a good boy and go back to sleep."

"Hee-hee...  And how long do you fancy you will outlive me?  Fools."

"Y'know, for a dead guy you sure are talkative."

Then without warning Rinoa caved against the wall, sinking to her knees.  The gun fell from her hand.  She clutched her forehead.

"Rinoa?" Squall said.

"Something's wrong..." she whispered, coughing weakly.

And then he felt it too.  His hands holding the sword felt stiff all of a sudden.  He could not move them.  An acute twinge of pain in his head made him nauseous.  Gritting his teeth, he managed to stay on his feet.  He checked Zell, and found him sweating and breathing harshly.  He too was barely keeping upright.  

"What the f__k have you done to me?" Zell barked.

"Heh... feeling it now?" the creature said.  "Hee-hee... My body is like a sack of poison. Thought you were giving _me_ a whipping when you pumped me full of holes, did you?  Hee-hee!  But don't worry; I won't let you suffer long.  I can't wait to see what your blood tastes like.  Shall I begin with the fetching lass?"

Squall collapsed, dropping the sword.  Zell followed within moments.  The creature walked between them, limping over to the girl.  She fought to stay conscious, sweaty brows knit together in concentration.  A trembling hand moved to cast a spell.  The creature's fingerless claw knocked it away.  The other claw snaked through her hair and thumbed her neck.  It licked its lips.  "Such pretty, pretty skin...  Hee-hee!  I knew this would be worth the trouble..."

Reaching to his waist, Squall fumbled his belt with numb fingers that kept slipping.  Retrieving a vial, he brought it down hard on the floor.  The capsule shattered, cutting into the flesh.  The liquid gasified instantly and spread around him.  Sensation returned to his body, and stinging pain to his bloodied hand.  He grabbed the sword and hurled it at the creature that hunched over the girl.  The blade pierced it squarely in the side.  It fell over with a yelp.  Squall took another vial and threw it next to Zell.  "Get up, Zell!"

"You!" the creature hissed, grunting, pulling at the sword.  The blade came out, leaving a gaping gash.  Squall's blizzard spell then buried it under a mass of ice.

"What's going on in there?" someone shouted from outside.  The door was thrown open, admitting the men that had left with Zone.  They had returned to help.  "Is he still alive?"  

Squall lunged at the men, pushing them back out the door.  With a surprised yell they fell outside the cabin.  He shut the door and bolted it.  

"What the hell!"

"Don't come in here!" Squall shouted, coughing.  Already the poisonous fume was affecting him again.  He took out another vial for Rinoa.  "Zell!"

Zell got back on his feet, shaking his head to clear the dizziness.  "Ugh...  I'm good!"

The ice cracked apart like glass.  The creature emerged from the glistening rubble.  It gripped the piece of crystal binding its leg and tore it off the floor along with the carpet.  "Useless!" it cried.

The creature was about to dash at Squall.  He prepared to cast fire once more, but never got the chance.  A window to his right burst in, scattering shards everywhere.  He covered his eyes.  When he opened them, he saw the creature struggling furiously against some invisible foe.  Then he detected it.  A nearly transparent sphere of rays cocooned the creature, imprisoning it.

"...Not the way I pictured the great Vinzer Deling," Selphie said looking on the creature, perched on the busted window sill.

"Selphie!"

"I mean I know he's a politician and all—but that is just plain nasty."

"He's not Deling," Zell provided.

"I know, Mr. Dincht.  I was being sarcastic."  She stepped into the cabin.  Sumptuous only minutes earlier, the room was now a ruin.  "What a mess...  Neither of you boys had containment spells?"

"Who'd have known we would need any?" Zell muttered.  "Ugh, my head...  Hey, how's the girl?"

"She's all right.  Just unconscious," Squall answered.

"Well, our first mission is a lovely disaster.  What are we gonna do?" Selphie said.

The creature was clawing viciously at its prison, sputtering threats that were muffled through the barrier.  "Ditch him, I guess," Squall said.  "Prepare to cast fire together."

"This blows," Zell grumbled.  "Looks like your premonition came true.  It'll be the biggest flop in the Garden's annals," he said to Selphie as they lined up in front of the creature.

"I can hear your grandpa turning over in his grave," she replied.  She enjoyed his irritated glare.

"Ready," Squall said, taking aim.

"At least I get to take it out on him," Zell said.

The barrier began to flicker and grow dim.  It was lifting.  In another moment it dispersed completely, leaving hazy residue in the air like bits of a rainbow.  The creature was free.  

"You little—" it hissed.  Three blazing fireballs cut its sentence short, hurling the creature against the wall.  The wall ripped away.  Out flew the faux Deling, tossed onto the rails.

The train, tailless, continued on at full speed.  Before long it was out of the forest.

Next: A Historic Broadcast

From the Author:

Are people reading this story at all?  I should very much like to hear from just ten readers for each chapter.  I want to be sure that at least that many people are following the story.  For the ten of you I will write on.  Let me hear from you!


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